I looked at Lodema Trumble. She looked strange. She had sunk back in her
chair. I thought she wuz a-goin' to faint, and she told somebody the
next day, "that she did almost lose her conscientiousness."

"Why," sez I, "she hain't married."

[Illustration: "WE ARE GIVIN' A PARTY, SAMANTHA."]

"Wall, she ort to be, if she hain't," sez he. "I say it is high time for
her to have some sort of a weddin'. Everybody is a havin' 'em--tin, and
silver and wooden, and basswood, and glass, and etc.--and I thought it
wuz a perfect shame that Lodema shouldn't have none of no kind--and I
thought I'd lay to, and surprise her with one. Every other man seemed
to be a-holdin' off, not willin' seemin'ly that she should have one, and
I jest thought I would happify her with one."

"Wall, why didn't you make her a silver one, or a tin?" sez I.

"Or a paper one!" screamed Lodema, who had riz up out of her almost
faintin' condition. "That would have been much more appropriate," sez
she.

"Wall, I thought a diamond one would be more profitable to her. For I
asked 'em all to bring diamonds, if they brought anything. And then I
thought it would be more suitable to her age."

"Why!" she screamed out. "They have to be married seventy-five years
before they can have one."