you mean? Was you cal'latin' to make a BARGAIN with
him?"

"No, no, course not. But there ain't any sense in heavin' money away on
a parson more'n on anybody else."

"Caleb Hammond, how much do you intend givin' that minister?"

Mr. Hammond stirred uneasily on the seat of the carryall.

"Oh, I don't know," he answered evasively.

"Yes, you do know, too. How much?"

"I don't know. Two or three dollars, maybe."

"TWO or three dollars! My soul and body! Is two dollars all you're
willin' to give up to get MARRIED? Is THAT all the ceremony's worth to
you? Two dollars! My soul!"

"Oh, let up! I don't care. I'll--I'll--" after a desperate wrestle with
his sense of economy. "I'll give him whatever you say--in reason. Eh!
. . . What's that foolhead horse stoppin' for now? What in the tunket's
the matter with him?"

The matter was simply that in his hasty harnessing Mr. Hammond had but
partially buckled one of the girths, and the horse was now half-way out
of the shafts, with the larger part of the harness well up towards his
ears. Caleb groaningly climbed down from the seat, rummaged out and lit
the lantern, which he had been thoughtful enough to put under the seat
before starting, and proceeded to repair damages. This took a long time,
and in getting back to the carryall he tore a triangular rent in the
back of his Sunday coat. He had donned his best clothes to be married
in, and, to add to his troubles, had left his watch in the fob-pocket of
his everyday trousers, so they had no means of knowing the time.

"That's a nice mess," he grumbled, taking off his coat to examine the
tear by the light of the lantern. "Nice-lookin' rag-bag I'll be to get
married."

"Maybe I can mend it when we get to Bayport," said Miss Parker.

"What'll you mend it with--pins?"

"No, there's a needle and thread in my reticule. Wait till we get to
Bayport and then--"

"Can't mend it in broad daylight ridin up and down the main street, can
you? And I'd look pretty shuckin' my coat in the minister's parlor for
you to patch up the holes in it. Couldn't you mend it now?"

Hannah announced her willingness to try, and the reticule being
produced, the needle was threaded after numerous trials, and the mending
began. Caleb, holding the lantern, watched the operation anxiously, his
face falling at every stitch.

"I'm afraid I haven't made a good job of it," sighed Hannah, gazing
sorrowfully at the puckered and wrinkled star in the back of t