As soon as the mails could get it there, the editor of Wedding Chimes received a neatly penciled and eloquent letter from one John Laney, setting forth his especial needs and preferences, with considerable stress laid upon the financial standing of the matrimonial candidates.
The day the list was due Laney rode down for the mail. The eagerness with which he took the letter from her hand did not escape Belle Dashiel.
“Got a new girl, John?” she asked lightly, though she watched his face with suspicious eyes.
“Perhaps,” replied Laney, and all her urging could not detain him.
By the light of the camp-fire Laney and Porcupine studied the list of names and addresses sent from the office of the matrimonial paper.
“This a-here one suits me,” said Laney. “‘Mayme Livingston, Oak Grove, Iowa.’ It’s a toney-sounding name.”
“It’s me dat’s gittin’ married,” Porcupine suggested significantly. “But Mayme’s all right, I tank. Go on ahead and write.”
So Laney, with the assistance of a sheet of ruled notepaper and a lead pencil which he moistened frequently in order to shade effectively, composed a letter which he and Porcupine regarded not only as a model of cleverness but an achievement from a literary point of view. The legal tone which gave it dignity was much admired by Porcupine. The letter read:
Belly River, Mont.
Miss Mayme Livingston: