s to us
poor unworthy creatures,--she stood by the wax-flower wreath under
the glass case on the whatnot in the corner, and wept into her real
lace handkerchief, and wished with all the earnestness of her soul
that she could think of some way to let John know that his trousers
leg was wrinkled over his left shoe top. But she could not solve the
problem, so she gave herself up to the consolation of her tears. Yet
it should be set down to her credit that when the preacher's amen was
said, hers was the first head up, and while the others were rushing
for the happy pair she was in the kitchen with her apron on dishing up
the wedding supper. Well might the Sycamore Ridge _Weekly Banner_
declare that the "tables groaned with good things." There were not
merely a little piddling dish of salad, a bite of cake, and a dab of
ice-cream. There were turkey and potatoes and vegetables and fruit and
bread and cake and pudding and pie--four kinds of pie, mark you--and
preserves, and "Won't you please, Mrs. Culpepper, try some of that
piccalilli?" and "Oh, Mrs. Ward, if you just would have a slice of
that fruit cake," and "Now, General,--a little more of the gravy for
that turkey dressing--it is such a long ride home," or "Colonel, I
know you like corn bread, and I made this myself as a special
compliment to Virginia."

And through it all the bride sat watching the door--looking always
through the crowd for some one. Her face was anxious and her heart was
clouded, and when the guests had gone and the house was empty, she
left her husband and slipped out of the back door. There, after the
glare of the lamps had left her eyes, she saw a little man walking
with his head down, out near the barn, and she ran to him and threw
her arms about him and kissed him, and when she led Lycurgus Mason,
who was all washed and dressed, back through the kitchen to her
husband, John saw that the man's eyelids were red, and that on the
starched cuffs were the marks of tears. For to him she was only his
little girl, and John afterward knew that she was the only friend he
had in the world. "Oh, father, why didn't you come in?" cried the
daughter. "I missed you so!" The man blinked a moment at the lights
and looked toward his wife, who was busy at a table, as he said: "Who?
Me?" and then added: "I was just lookin' after their horses. I was
coming in pretty soon. You oughtn't to bother about me. Well, John,"
he smiled, as he put out his hand, "the seegars seem