“You're just in time to see a wedding,” she said, when the first raptures had subsided.
“Whose wedding, sweetheart? Ours?”
“Far from it,” answered Ruth, laughing. “Come with me and I'll explain.”
She gave him a vivid description of the events that had transpired during his absence, and had invited him to the wedding before it occurred to her that Aunt Jane might not be pleased. “I may be obliged to recall my invitation,” she said seriously, “I'll have to ask Aunty about it. She may not want you.”
“That doesn't make any difference,” announced Winfield, in high spirits, “I'm agoin' to the wedding and I'm a-goin' to kiss the bride, if you'll let me.”
Ruth smothered a laugh. “You may, if you want to, and I won't be jealous. Isn't that sweet of me?”
“You're always sweet, dear. Is this the abode of the parson?”
The Methodist minister was at home, but his wife was not, and Ruth determined to take Winfield in her place. The clergyman said that he would come immediately, and, as the lovers loitered up the hill, they arrived at the same time.
Winfield was presented to the bridal couple, but there was no time for conversation, since Aunt Jane was in a hurry. After the brief ceremony was over, Ruth said wickedly:
“Aunty, on the way to the minister's, Mr. Winfield told me he was going to kiss the bride. I hope you don't mind?”