Part 46 (1/2)

”Mr. Fenton, you must take Miss b.u.t.terworth on your arm, you know, and lead her in front of the sofa, and turn around, and face father, and then do just what he tells you, and remember that there's nothing for you to say.”

The truth was, that they were all afraid that Jim would not be able to hold his tongue.

”Are we all ready?” inquired Mr. Snow, in a pleasant, official tone.

All were ready, and then Mr. Snow, going out with a book in his hand, was followed by Jim and his bride, the little procession being completed by the three Misses Snow, who, with a great deal of care upon their faces, slipped out of the door, one after another, like three white doves from a window. Mr. Snow took his position, the pair wheeled and faced him, and the three Misses Snow supported Miss b.u.t.terworth as impromptu bridesmaids. It was an impressive tableau, and when the good pastor said: ”Let us pray,” and raised his thin, white hands, a painter in search of a subject could have asked for nothing better.

When, at the close of his prayer, the pastor inquired if there were any known obstacles to the union of the pair before him in the bonds of holy matrimony, and bade all objectors to speak then, or forever after hold their peace, Jim looked around with a defiant air, as if he would like to see the man who dared to respond to the call. No one did respond, and the ceremony proceeded.

”James,” said Mr. Snow.

”Jest call me--”

Miss b.u.t.terworth pinched Jim's arm, and he recalled Miss Snow's injunction in time to arrest his sentence in midpa.s.sage.

”James,” the pastor repeated, and then went on to ask him, in accordance with the simple form of his sect, whether he took the woman whom he was holding by the hand to be his lawful and wedded wife, to be loved and cherished in sickness and health, in prosperity and adversity, cleaving to her, and to her only.

”Parson,” said Jim, ”that's jest what I'm here for.”

There would have been a t.i.tter if any other man had said it, but it was so strong and earnest, and so much in character, that hardly a smile crossed a face that fronted him.

Then ”Keziah” was questioned in the usual form, and bowed her response, and Jim and the little woman were declared to be one. ”What G.o.d hath joined together, let not man put asunder.”

And then Mr. Snow raised his white hands again, and p.r.o.nounced a formal benediction. There was a moment of awkwardness, but soon the pastor advanced with his congratulations, and Mrs. Snow came up, and the three Misses Snow, and the Balfours, and the neighbors; and there were kisses and hand-shakings, and good wishes. Jim beamed around upon the fluttering and chattering groups like a great, good-natured mastiff upon a playful collection of silken spaniels and smart terriers. It was the proudest moment of his life. Even when standing on the cupola of his hotel, surveying his achievements, and counting his possessions, he had never felt the thrill which moved him then. The little woman was his, and his forever. His manhood had received the highest public recognition, and he was as happy as if it had been the imposition of a crown.

”Ye made purty solemn business on't, Parson,” said Jim.

”It's a very important step, Mr. Fenton,” responded the clergyman.

”Step!” exclaimed Jim. ”That's no name for't; it's a whole trip. But I sh'll do it. When I said it I meaned it. I sh'll take care o' the little woman, and atween you an' I, Parson, it's about the best thing as a man can do. Takin' care of a woman is the nateral thing for a man, an' no man ain't much as doesn't do it, and glad o' the job.”

The capacity of a country a.s.sembly for cakes, pies, and lemonade, is something quite unique, especially at a morning festival. If the table groaned at the beginning, it sighed at the close. The abundance that a.s.serted itself in piles of dainties was left a wreck. It faded away like a bank of snow before a drift of southern vapor. Jim, foraging among the solids, found a mince pie, to which he devoted himself.

”This is the sort o' thing as will stan' by a man in trouble,” said he, with a huge piece in his hand.

Then, with a basket of cake, he vanished from the house, and distributed his burden among the boys at the gate.

”Boys, I know ye're hungry, 'cause ye've left yer breakfast on yer faces. Now git this in afore it rains.”

The boys did not stand on the order of the service, but helped themselves greedily, and left his basket empty in a twinkling.

”It beats all nater,” said Jim, looking at them sympathetically, ”how much boys can put down when they try. If the facks could be knowed, without cuttin' into 'em, I'd be willin' to bet somethin' that their legs is holler.”

While Jim was absent, the bride's health was drunk in a gla.s.s of lemonade, and when he returned, his own health was proposed, and Jim seemed to feel that something was expected of him.

”My good frens,” said he, ”I'm much obleeged to ye. Ye couldn't 'a'

treated me better if I'd 'a' been the president of this country. I ain't used to yer ways, but I know when I'm treated well, an' when the little woman is treated well. I'm obleeged to ye on her 'count. I'm a goin' to take 'er into the woods, an' take care on 'er. We are goin' to keep a hotel--me and the little woman--an' if so be as any of ye is took sick by overloadin' with cookies 'arly in the day, or bein' thinned out with lemonade, ye can come into the woods, an' I'll send ye back happy.”

There was a clapping of hands and a flutter of handkerchiefs, and a merry chorus of laughter, and then two vehicles drove up to the door.

The bride bade a tearful farewell to her mult.i.tude of friends, and poured out her thanks to the minister's family, and in twenty minutes thereafter, two happy loads of pa.s.sengers went pounding over the bridge, and off up the hill on the way to Number Nine. The horses were strong, the morning was perfect, and Jim was in possession of his bride. They, with Miss Snow, occupied one carriage, while Mr. Benedict and the Balfours filled the other. Not a member of the company started homeward until the bridal party was seen climbing the hill in the distance, but waited, commenting upon the great event of the morning, and speculating upon the future of the pair whose marriage they had witnessed. There was not a woman in the crowd who did not believe in Jim; and all were glad that the little tailoress had reached so pleasant and stimulating a change in her life.