"Oh, no, it will be all the funnier."
"Marry, and get acquainted afterwards, eh? Well, I guess that is the rule in society. I beg your pardon," he added, speaking to Miss McElwin, "for not appearing in a more appropriate garb, but as there seems to be some hurry in the matter, I haven't the time nor the clothes to meet a more fashionable demand. I am at your service."
He offered his arm and the girl took it with a laugh, but with more of scorn than of good humor.
"Take your places here," Miss Annie said. And then she cried: "Oh, where is Henry Bostic? We'll have him perform the ceremony. He'll make it so deliriously solemn." She ran away and soon returned, with a young man serious enough to have divided the pulpit with any circuit rider in the country.
The ceremony was performed, and then began the congratulations. "Oh, please quit," Miss McElwin pleaded. "I'm tired of it. Zeb," she said, turning to a bold looking young man, "tell them to quit."
"Here," he commanded, "we've got enough of this, so let's start on something else. Let's play old Sister Phoebe. Why the deuce won't they let us dance?"
"Henry," said Miss Annie, stepping out upon the veranda with the serious young man, "they always called you queer, but I must say that you know how to perform a marriage ceremony."
"I trust so," he answered.
"You do; and when you are ordained——"
"I was ordained this morning."