"But nearly all the blame falls on me," Miss Annie whimpered. "I am afraid ever to meet him again."
"Oh, you are afraid he won't make you another promise. Well, that would be a terrible loss. Lyman, jest help yourself to that fried ham. Tilt up the dish, and dip out some of the gravy. Sorry we haven't got cakes and maple syrup; wish we had some angel's food. Rather a strange weddin' breakfast with the bride not present."
"Did—did Mrs. Lyman entirely recover before she was taken home?" Lyman asked.
Miss Annie looked up. "I think it was nearly all put on," she said.
"Why, Annie Milburn Staggs!" her mother exclaimed. "How can you say such a thing! I don't know what's come over you and your father. I'm getting so I'm afraid to hear you speak, you shock me so."
"That's right, Annie," said the old man. "Say exactly what you think. To tell the truth, I'm gettin' sorter tired of bein' trod under by the horse that McElwin rides. And if I was you, Lyman, I'd stand right up to him."
"That's about where you'll find me standing. I am sorry for the young woman, but—"
"Don't worry over her," Miss Annie spoke up. "I believe she's laughing alone right now over the absurdity of it. Why, anybody would, and she's no more than human."
"I suppose she denounced me," said Lyman.
"Yes, in a way. She had to keep time with her mother. But they are madder at Henry Bostic than at anyone else. And really, he's the only one that's guilty. But I don't blame him much. The McElwins have always made fun of him."