Now, Mr. Fenton, really! you can't see her until she
is ready!"
"Oh can't I!" and Jim smiled.
Miss Snow had the impression, prevalent among women, that a bridegroom
has no rights so long as they can keep him out of them, and that it is
their privilege to fight him up to the last moment.
"Now, really, Mr. Fenton, you _must_ be patient," she said, in a
whisper. "She is quite delicate this morning, and she's going to look so
pretty that you'll hardly know her."
"Well," said Jim, "if you've got a ticket into the place whar she's
stoppin', tell her that kingdom-come is here an' waitin'."
A ripple of laughter went around the circle, and Jim, finding the room
getting a little close, beckoned Mr. Snow out of the doors. Taking him
aside and removing his hat, he said:
"Parson, do you see my har?"
"I do," responded the minister, good-naturedly.
"That riz last night," said Jim, solemnly.
"Is it possible?" and Mr. Snow looked at the intractable pile with
genuine concern.
"Yes, riz in a dream. I thought I'd shot 'er. I was follerin' 'er all
night. Sometimes she was one thing, an' sometimes she was another, but I
drew a bead on 'er, an' down she went, an' up come my har quicker nor
lightnin'.
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