“But surely you don’t want to go to a church!” he said.
“Couldn’t we get some clergyman to marry us quietly?”
“But then, there’s a lot of rigmarole!”
“But mightn’t he leave it out?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “They generally believe in it, you see.”
He decided to make an attempt, however.
“Let’s go to-morrow morning,” he said. “I’m going over to have the sound-post set in my violin, and that’ll take an hour or so. Perhaps we can finish it up in the meantime.”
“A good idea,” said Corydon. “It’ll give me to-night to tell mother and father.”
Section 4. So behold them, the next morning, emerging from the little shop of the violin-dealer, and seeking for some one to fasten them in the holy bonds of matrimony! They were walking down a great avenue, and there were many churches—but they were all rich churches. “I never thought about it before,” said Thyrsis. “But I wonder if there are any poor churches in the city!”
They stopped in front of one brown-stone structure that looked a trifle less elaborate. “It says Presbyterian,” said Corydon, reading the sign. “I wonder how they do it.”