The scandal blew over.  At first it was expected that the minister would interfere to prevent the union, but beyond intimating from the pulpit that the souls of Sabbath-breakers were beyond praying for, and then praying for Sam’l and Sanders at great length, with a word thrown in for Bell, he let things take their course.  Some said it was because he was always frightened lest his young men should intermarry with other denominations, but Sanders explained it differently to Sam’l.

“I hav’na a word to say agin the minister,” he said; “they’re gran’ prayers, but Sam’l, he’s a mairit man himsel.”

“He’s a’ the better for that, Sanders, isna he?”

“Do ye no see,” asked Sanders, compassionately, “‘at he’s tryin’ to mak the best o’t?”

“Oh, Sanders, man!” said Sam’l.

“Cheer up, Sam’l,” said Sanders; “it’ll sune be ower.”

Their having been rival suitors had not interfered with their friendship.  On the contrary, while they had hitherto been mere acquaintances, they became inseparables as the wedding-day drew near.  It was noticed that they had much to say to each other, and that when they could not get a room to themselves they wandered about together in the churchyard.  When Sam’l had anything to tell Bell, he sent Sanders to tell it, and Sanders did as he was bid.  There was nothing that he would not have done for Sam’l.

The more obliging Sanders was, however, the sadder Sam’l grew.  He never laughed now on Saturdays, and sometimes his loom was silent half the day.  Sam’l felt that Sanders’s was the kindness of a friend for a dying man.

It was to be a penny wedding, and Lisbeth Fargus said it was delicacy that made Sam’l superintend the fitting-up of the barn by deputy.  Once he came to see it in person, but he looked so ill that Sanders had to see him home.  This was on the Thursday afternoon, and the wedding was fixed for Friday.

“Sanders, Sanders,” said Sam’l, in a voice strangely unlike his own, “it’ll a’ be ower by this time the morn.”

“It will,” said Sanders.

“If I had only kent her langer,” continued Sam’l.

“It wid hae been safer,” said Sanders.

“Did ye see the yallow floor in Bell’s bonnet?” asked the accepted swain.

“Ay,” said Sanders, reluctantly.

“I’m dootin’—­I’m sair dootin’ she’s but a flichty, licht-hearted crittur, after a’.”

“I had ay my suspeecions o’t,” said Sanders.

“Ye hae kent her langer than me,” said Sam’l.

“Yes,” said Sanders, “but there’s nae gettin’ at the heart o’ women.  Man Sam’l, they’re desperate cunnin’.”

“I’m dootin’t; I’m sair dootin’t.”

“It’ll be a warnin’ to ye, Sam’l, no to be in sic a hurry i’ the futur,” said Sanders.

Sam’l groaned.

“Ye’ll be gaein up to the manse to arrange wi’ the minister the morn’s mornin’,” continued Sanders, in a subdued voice.