was very young and just as pretty as she was young. She was rosy and
dimpled and had absurd little baby curls trailing down over her eyes,
and her tears had no more effect on her face than a summer shower.

"Why, what did your mother say to Bob?" asked Everett, thus drawn into
the position of arbitrator between two family factions.

"She told him that Jennie Rucker would be about his frying size when
he got old enough to pick a wife, and it hurt his feelings so he
didn't come to see me for a week, and he says he ain't never coming no
more. If I want him I will have to go over to Boliver and marry him
to-morrow." A sob began to rise again in the poor little bride
prospective's throat at the thought of the horrible Boliver wedding.

The autocrat shifted uneasily, and in the dusk Everett could see that
he was completely melted and ready to surrender his position if he
could only find the line of retreat.

"Well," said Everett judicially, as he looked up at Bob with a wink,
which was answered by the slightest beginning of laugh from the
insulted one, "I don't believe Bob wants to do without that bouquet
and veil and supper either. They are just the greatest things that
ever happen to a man"--another wink at Bob--"and Bob don't want to
give them up. Now suppose you go on back home to-night and don't say
anything to your mother about the matter, and to-morrow I'll ask Mr.
Crabtree to step over and make it up with Bob for her. I feel sure
she'll invite them both in to supper, and then sometime soon we can
all discuss the veil-bouquet question. You aren't in a hurry, are
you?"