"There's some one," said Ward, returning into the yard and driving
the fork-tines into the ground, "who has insulted Miss Pike. I'd give
a thousand dollars to know who done that writin'."

Only bewildered stares met his furious gaze.

"I want you to understand," he went on, "that no one can drive me
to git married till I'm ready. But I'm standin' here now and tellin'
the nosy citizens of this place that I'm ready to be married, and
so's she who is goin' to be my companion, and we'll 'tend to our own
business in spite of the gossips of Smyrna. It's for this day week!
I don't want no more lyin' gossip about it. You're gittin' it straight
this time. It's for this day week; no invitations, no cards, no
flowers, no one's durnation business. There, take that home and chaw
on it. Pharline, let's you and me go into the house."

"I reckon there's witnesses enough to make that bindin'," muttered
Cap'n Sproul under his breath.

He bent forward and tapped the Colonel on the arm as Ward was about
to step upon the piazza.

"Who do ye suspect?" he whispered, hoarsely.

It was a perfectly lurid gaze that his brother-in-law turned on him.

What clutched Ward's arm was a grip like a vise. He glared into the
Colonel's eyes with light fully as lurid as that which met his gaze.
He spoke low, but his voice had the grating in it that is more ominous
than vociferation.