"One of the elect, father," said Miss Annie.
"All the same," the old man replied. "Why, just look," he added, glancing through the window—"Just look at the folks out there gazin' at the house. Oh, we live in the center of this town, at present."
"Annie," said the old woman, "pull down the shade. The impudent things!"
"I don't believe I would," the old man tittered as his daughter arose to obey. "It ain't right to rob folks of a pleasure that don't cost us nothin'."
"There's that vicious Mrs. Potter," said Annie, and with a spiteful jerk she pulled down the shade. "We will shut off her malicious view."
"It is to be expected that a bridegroom should be an object of interest," Lyman remarked. "I awoke last night and thought that I heard sleet rattling at the window, but recalling the time of year I knew that it was rice thrown in showers by my friends."
The old lady looked at Lyman: "I am sorry that you're not more serious," she said.
"Serious," Lyman repeated with a twinkling glance at the old man. "I have done everything I can to prove that I am serious. I have just been married."
"Oh, you got it that time, Tobitha. Got it, and I knowed you would."
"Jasper, for goodness sake, hush. Annie, come away from there, a peepin' through at those good-for-nothin' people. They'd better be at work earnin' a livin' for their families, gracious knows. Are you going?" she asked as Lyman arose.