By this time the amazing news had spread. Far and near the guns were popping a salute—which set the dogs a-howling: so that the noise was heartrending. Presently the neighbours began to gather: whereupon (for the cottage was small) we took our leave, giving the pair good wishes for the continuance of a happy married life. And when we got to our house we found waiting in the kitchen Mag Trawl, who had that day brought her fish from Swampy Arm—a dull girl, slatternly, shiftless: the mother of two young sons.
“I heared tell,” she drawled, addressing the doctor, but looking elsewhere, “that you’re just after marryin’ Aunt Amanda.”
The doctor nodded.
“I ’low,” she went on, after an empty pause, “that I wants t’ get married, too.”
“Where’s the man?”
“Jim he ’lowed two year ago,” she said, staring at the ceiling, “that we’d go south an’ have it done this season if no parson come.”
“Bring the man,” said the doctor, briskily.
“Well, zur,” said she, “Jim ain’t here. You couldn’t do it ’ithout Jim bein’ here, could you?”
“Oh, no!”
“I ’lowed you might be able,” she said, with a little sigh, “if you tried. But you couldn’t, says you?”