effective sniffs in which Louisa Helen was indulging, but she was
boo-hooing in good earnest with real chokings and gurgles of sobs. Bob
was screwing the toe of his boot into the dust and saying and doing
absolutely and desperately nothing.

"Why, Louisa Helen, what is the matter?" demanded Everett as he seated
himself beside the wailer and endeavored to bring down the pitch of
the sobs by a kindly pat on the heaving shoulder.

"What's happened, Bob?" he demanded of the silent and dejected lover,
who only shook his head as he answered from the depths of confusion.

"I don't know; she just of a sudden flung down and began to hollow and
I ain't never got her to say."

"Oh, I want a supper and a veil and a bokay!" came in a perfect howl
from the folds of the sleeve.

"I want some supper, too, Louisa Helen," said Everett quickly, and a
smile lifted the corners of his mouth as the situation began to
unravel itself to his sympathetic concern. "I guess I could take the
bouquet and veil, too," he added to himself in an undertone.

"I ain't a-going to let Maw insult Bob no more, but I don't want no
Boliver wedding in the office of no hotel. I want to be married where
folks can look at me, and have something good to eat, and throw old
shoes and rice at me," came in a more constrained and connected flow,
as the poor little fugitive raised her head from her arm and reached
down to settle her skirts about her ankles, from which she had flirted
them in the kicks of one of her most violent paroxysms. Louisa Helen