“It is certainly a wonderful picture,” said Mary, “and while I have seen few pictures painted by old masters, I think, even with my limited knowledge of art, I cannot fail to appreciate this excellent copy, and I thank you heartily.  Professor, and shall always be reminded of you when I look at this copy of a great work.”

Mary would not go empty-handed to Ralph at her marriage.  Her “hope chest” in the attic was full to overflowing, and quite unique in itself, as it consisted of an old, in fact ancient, wooden dough-tray used in times past by Aunt Sarah’s grandmother.  Beside it stood a sewing table, consisting of three discarded broom handles supporting a cheese-box cover, with wooden cheese-box underneath for holding Mary’s sewing; stained brown and cretonne lined.  Mary valued it as the result of the combined labor of herself and Ralph Jackson.  A roll of new, home-made rag carpet, patchwork quilts and “New Colonial” rugs, jars of fruit, dried sweet corn, home-made soap, crocks of apple butter, jellies, jams and canned vegetables all bore evidence of Mary’s busy Summer at the farm.

The day of Mary’s marriage, the twelfth of October, dawned clear and bright, sunshine warm as a day in June.  In the centre of the gayly-decorated old farm house parlor, wearing a simple, little, inexpensive dress of soft, creamy muslin, we find Mary standing beside Ralph, who is looking supremely satisfied and happy, although a trifle pale and nervous, listening to the solemn words of the minister.  Ralph’s “I will” sounded clearly and distinctly through the long room.  Mary, with a sweet, serious, faraway look in her blue eyes, repeated slowly after the minister, “I promise to love, honor and”—­then a long pause.  She glanced shyly up at the young man by her side as if to make sure he was worth it, then in a low, clear tone, added, “obey.”

Ralph Jackson certainly deserved the appellation “Cave Man” given him by Fritz Schmidt.  He was considerably more than six feet in height, with broad, square shoulders, good features, a clear brain and a sound body.  He had never used intoxicants of any description.  He sometimes appeared quite boyish in his ways, for on account of his matured look and great size he was frequently judged to be older than he really was.

Aunt Sarah had provided a bounteous repast for the few friends assembled, and while looking after the comfort of her guests tears dimmed the kindly, gray eyes at the thought of parting from Mary.

Small Polly Schmidt, as flower girl at the wedding, was so excited she scarcely knew if she should laugh or cry, and finally compromised by giving Mary what she called a “bear hug,” much to Mary’s amusement.  Fritz gravely said:  “Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Jackson,” and turning to Mary, “I wish you a beautiful and happy life, Mrs. Jackson.”  Mary blushed becomingly on hearing her new name for the first time.