"Jack," said Chiquita, as the annual trip was made across the great country to the mine near the close of her college career, "see the effects of education and civilization in these immense cities where ten years ago were unplowed lands, open prairie and treeless wastes. The untutored savage must go; yes, there is but one result can ensue, and while it makes me feel sad for my people yet I doubt not it is best for humanity."
[CHAPTER XII.]
JACK WEDDED.
'Twas the last of June, the wedding bells pealed joyously, the church organ bellowed noisily, the formality of congratulations followed along with the flutter of praises for the bride and groom, which they received because it was eminently proper and expected; a hurried breakfast, still more hasty good-byes, the whistle of an approaching train amid the excitement of baggage checked, lost or forgotten, a rush of depot farewells, a waving of handkerchiefs, a few misty eyes, then Hazel had a chance to breathe a long sigh of relief and Jack to unburden some pent-up adjectives as he picked rice out of his wife's hair and removed the tell-tale labels, ribbons and signs which decorated umbrellas, suit cases and wraps.
"Jack," whispered Hazel, as she nestled close to him in the railroad coach in which was no one but an old man, the train attendant being on the platform. "I was 'skeert' until you squeezed my hand, and I trembled all over. I thought I should faint, but I'm your wife, ain't I, Jack?"
"Yes, you are an old married lady now," answered Jack, dogmatically.
"An old married lady," repeated Hazel slowly, lapsing into a brown study for a moment. "Jack, is it such an awful long time since I was a little girl and you pulled my sled on the hill for me?"
"No, dear, it is but yesterday and it will be yesterday always, even if we live for a hundred years. Don't you know, 'It's only once in life one's boots have copper toes,' and my 'copper-toed' age was the happiest part of my life."
"Until today, Jack," interrupted Hazel, very decidedly.
"Yes?" inquiringly replied Jack.