replied carelessly. "No, you needn't come. I can find my way alone
all right, for the moon will be up and it's only a step."

It did seem to me that Tim might insist on bearing me company, knowing
as he did that I was still a bit rickety; but he saw fit to take my one
refusal as final, and muttered something about reading. Then, I left
him.

It has been years since they have had a license at our tavern, so there
was a solitary man in the bar-room when I entered. Elmer Spiker, mine
host of the inn, was huddled close to the stove, and was reading by the
light of a lamp. Pausing at the threshold before opening the door, the
sonorous mumble sounding through the deal panels misled me. Believing
the Spiker family at prayers, I stood reverently without until the
service seemed to last too long to be one of devotion. Then I opened a
crack and peeked in. Seeing a lone man at the distant end of the room,
I entered. Elmer's back was toward me and my presence was unnoticed.
His eyes were on the paper before him.

"W. J. Mandelberger, of Martins Mills, was among us last Friday," he
read, slowly, distinctly, measuring every word. "He paid his
subscription for the year and informed us that Mrs. Mandelberger had
just presented him with a bouncing baby boy. Congratulations, W. J."

I coughed apologetically, but Elmer rattled the paper just then, and
did not notice me.

He went rumbling on: "William Arker, of Popolomus, and Miss Myrtle
McGee, of Turkey Valley, were united in the holy bonds of matrimony on
the sixth ultimo."