"Don't tell me anything that he says, not a word!" she shouts. "I won't listen to it. He had the impudence to suggest that my dear Mulli was a—a corn doctor, or something like that."
"Did he?" says Sadie. "I wouldn't have thought it of Pinckney. Well, just to show him that he was wrong, I would put this affair off until you can have a regular church wedding; with invitations, and ushers, and pretty flower girls. And you ought to have a gray-silk wedding-gown—you'd look perfectly stunning in gray silk, you know. Wouldn't all that be much nicer than running off like this, as though you were ashamed of something?"
Say, it was a slick game of talk that Sadie handed out then, for she was playin' for time. But Aunt Tillie was no come-on.
"Mulli doesn't want to wait another day," says she, "and neither do I, so that settles it. And here comes the rector, now."
"Looks like we'd played out our hand, don't it?" I whispered to Sadie.
"Wait!" says she. "I want to get a good look at the man."
He was trailin' along after the minister, and it wa'n't until he was within six feet of me that I saw who it was.
"Hello, Doc!" says I. "So you're the dear Mulli, are you?"
He near jumped through his collar, Pinphoodle did, when he gets his lamps on me. It only lasted a minute, though, for he was a quick recoverer.
"Why, professor!" says he. "This is an unexpected pleasure."