d his mate steered the equipage from Sculpin Point to
the village, how they were cheered and hooted along the route, how they
ran into the yard of the Metropolitan Livery Stable as a port of refuge,
how the Captain escaped to the home of Widow Buckett, how the "splicin'"
was accomplished--these are details which must be slighted.

The climax came when the newly made Mrs. Bastabol Buckett Bean, her
plump hand resting affectionately on the sleeve of the Captain's best
blue broadcloth coat, said, cooingly: "Now, Cap'n, I'm ready to drive to
Sculpin Point."

"All right, Stashia, Lank's waitin' for us at the front door with the
craft."

At first sight of the boat on wheels Mrs. Bean could do no more than
attempt, by means of indistinct ejaculation, to express her obvious
emotion. She noted the grinning crowd of villagers, Sarepta Tucker among
them. She saw the white and green dory with its mast, and with Lank,
villainously smiling, at the top of a step-ladder which had been leaned
against the boat; she saw the green wheels, and the verdant gorgeousness
of Barnacles's lower half. For a moment she gazed at the fantastic
equipage and spoke not. Then she slammed the front door with an
indignant bang, marched back into the sitting-room and threw herself on
the haircloth sofa with an abandon that carried away half a dozen
springs.

For the first hour she reiterated, between vast sobs, that Captain Bean
was a soulless wretch, that she would never set foot on Sculpin Point,
and that she would die there on the sofa rather than ride in such an
outlandish rig.

Many a time had Captain Bean weathered Hatteras in a southeaster, but
never had he met such a storm of feminine fury as this. However, he
stood by like a man, putting in soothing words of explanation and
endearment whenever a lull gave opportunity.

Toward evening the storm spent itself. The disturbed Stashia became
somewhat calm. Eventually she laughed hysterically at the Captain's
arguments, and in the end she compromised. Not by day would she enter
the dory wagon, but late in the evening she would swallow her pride and
go, just to please the Captain.

Thus it was that soon after ten o'clock, when the village folks had
laughed their fill and gone away, the new Mrs. Bean climbed the
step-ladder, bestowed herself unhandily on the midship thwart and, with
Lank on lookout in the bow, and Captain Bean handling the reins from the
stern sheets, the honeymoon chariot got unde