Lize, who could hardly tell her own age, ’lowed it war a moughty long time.
“Wa-al,” said Pete, hesitatingly, “bein’ ez how we’re in love, Lize, let’s git merred fur keeps. Thet wa’n’t no weddin’ last summer, when paw and maw sent us daown ter Bar Camp, was it, Lize?”
“A weddin’?” asked Lize, “naw; we jest got merred. Thar hain’t no weddin’ ’thout yo’’re in love; an’ we’ve got it naow, Pete, sartin;” and Lize looked surprised at the new thought.
Pete needed no more encouragement, but taking his slouch hat in hand he walked nervously to where the parson was distributing the last of the Christmas presents.
“Me’n Lize ’low ez we hain’t got no call ter bother yo’, parson,” he said, as he looked attentively at a hole in his old hat. “But me’n Lize wan’ ter git merred fur keeps, an’ we ’lowed ez mebbe you’d do it fur nothin’, ez we hain’t got no present ter-night. It only costs half er dollar,” Pete suggested, as the surprised parson seemed to hesitate.
The mention of the fact that it only cost half a dollar seemed to recall something to the good parson. Before he could answer, however, Pete continued:
“Thet wa’n’t no weddin las’ summer, daown ter Bar Camp, ’cause we wa’n’t in love. But we’ve got it naow, sartin; an’ we wan’ ter git merred fur keeps.” Pete looked up pleadingly.
A moment later, Pete and Lize stood blushingly, hand in hand, before the group of rough mountaineers. As the parson put this question to Pete, “Do you take this girl for your Christmas present for keeps?” his dark eyes lighted up with a new happiness, and he answered quickly, “I ’low I does, fur keeps.”
There was a movement of surprise in the audience as Pete and Lize went down the narrow aisle, and one or two of the uncouth mountaineers instinctively drew their slouch hats from their heads.