"Eh! eh! yes! yes!" The old man's face was alight with joy. "Eh! it takes the Almighty to be managing things, indeed. But, mind ye this! I would be finding out something about how He will be managing." His voice sank to a mysterious whisper. "I would be rastlin' it out last night, an' thinkin' how He'd been workin' an' turnin' an' twistin' things for the good o' the poor McIntyre body, an' the poor bits o' things Jake Sawyer adopted. I would be rastlin' it all out, an' mind ye—listen to this—He wouldn't be doin' it by Himself." His eyes shone like living amber. "Oh, no, indeed. He would be handing over the job to folks—jist folks, mind ye! Eh! eh! wouldn't that be wonderful? An' it will jist be because we are such poor potterin' bodies, that we wouldn't be having the world patched up an' fixed right long ago. Och! it would be a great thing, indeed, that we would be having a hand in making the earth! And some day we will all be learning to do our part, jist as He wants it, and then that will be a fine day for the world, oh, a fine day, I tell you!" He started to move away.
"Where are you going, Uncle Hughie?" asked his niece. "The dew is falling, remember."
"Och! hoch! it is the troublesome lass you will be!" he cried, looking at her fondly. "I will jist be away a meenit. The minister and me would jist be goin' up to the mill for a word with John McIntyre. He's come home again—eh! eh! yes, he's jist come home. The dew! Hoch!"
"Oh, there's many a man o' the Ca——"
He hobbled joyfully away, and the two moved on up the green orchard aisle.
Early the next morning there was a tremendous rushing to and fro between the bride's house and her brother's. Everything in the village took on a holiday aspect. The orphans were up at dawn, and, decked in their best, flew hither and thither, keeping things stirred up and lively. The school children had a holiday, because the Duke had to go to the wedding early, to help Mrs. Winters set the tables. The mill did not exactly stop running, but nobody settled down to work, for Wes Long, who left at ten o'clock to run home and put on his Sunday clothes, came tearing back in his white shirt-sleeves and with his hair all soapy and wet, with the news that Sandy McQuarry was already at Winters', dressed in his Sabbath blacks, and fetching and carrying for the Duke like a trained poodle. Whereupon every man in the mill threw up his job and went down and walked the logs in the pond, and danced, and shoved each other into the water, and behaved in a way that, as Granny Long reported afterward to Sandy, was nothing but defying the Almighty.
When the time set for the ceremony approached, Miss Arabella, arrayed in her blue wedding dress and a long white veil, stood in the little spare bedroom, surveying her trembling image in the mirror, between Red Riding-Hood and Little Bo-peep. She dared not sit down, for Susan said she would crush her flounces, and she stood clinging to the bedpost for support, looking like a little, frightened gray sparrow that had somehow got into a bluebird's feathers. Her bridesmaid stood by her, cheerful and encouraging; Bella was giving pulls and jerks to her aunt's gown and veil, and Susan was hurrying in and out, breathless and anxious. The guests had already begun to crush their way into the parlor, and their subdued voices came through the door.
"There's all Aunt Christena's folks jist drove up, maw," whispered Bella, rustling to the window in her stiff pink silk. "Cousin Martha's got the book with the wedding march under her arm. Goodness! there's the minister! Arabella, are you sure you're ready? An' there's Martin and Dr. Allen comin' down the street!" The bridesmaid came and peeped over her shoulder. "An' there's Marjorie Scott, Elsie! She's got her new blue dress on, and she said she was going to wear her old white! I bet that's because your Malcolm's home!"
The handle of the door rattled loudly. "Arabella!" hissed a deep voice through the keyhole.
"Yes, William?" whispered his sister faintly.