“The law allows us two dollars, but you will permit me to perform the ceremony for nothing.  It’s a labor of love, Mr. Fenton.  We are all very much interested in Miss Butterworth, as you see.”

“Well, I’m a little interested in ‘er myself, an’ I’m a goin’ to pay for the splice.  Jest tuck that X into yer jacket, an’ tell yer neighbors as ye’ve seen a man as was five times better nor the law.”

“You are very generous.”

“No; I know what business is, though.  Ye have to get somethin’ to square the buryins an’ baptizins with.  When a man has a weddin’, he’d better pay the whole thing in a jump.  Parsons have to live, but how the devil they do it in Sevenoaks is more nor I know.”

“Mr. Fenton! excuse me!” said Mr. Snow, coloring, “but I am not accustomed to hearing language of that kind.”

“No, I s’pose not,” said Jim, who saw too late that he had made a mistake.  “Your sort o’ folks knuckle to the devil more nor I do.  A good bein’ I take to, but a bad bein’ I’m careless with; an’ I don’t make no more o’ slingin’ his name round nor I do kickin’ an old boot.”

Mr. Snow was obliged to laugh, and half a dozen others, who had gathered about them, joined in a merry chorus.

Then Miss Snow came out and whispered to her father, and gave a roguish glance at Jim.  At this time the house was full, the little yard was full, and there was a crowd of boys at the gate.  Mr. Snow took Jim by the arm and led him in.  They pressed through the crowd at the door, Miss Snow making way for them, and so, in a sort of triumphal progress, they went through the room, and disappeared in the apartment where “the little woman,” flushed and expectant, waited their arrival.

It would be hard to tell which was the more surprised as they were confronted by the meeting.  Dress had wrought its miracle upon both of them, and they hardly knew each other.

“Well, little woman, how fare ye?” said Jim, and he advanced, and took her cheeks tenderly between his rough hands, and kissed her.

“Oh, don’t!  Mr. Fenton!  You’ll muss her hair!” exclaimed the nervous little lady’s maid of the morning, dancing about the object of her delightful toils and anxieties, and readjusting a rose, and pulling out the fold of a ruffle.

“A purty job ye’ve made on’t!  The little woman’ll never look so nice again,” said Jim.

“Perhaps I shall—­when I’m married again,” said Miss Butterworth, looking up into Jim’s eyes, and laughing.

“Now, ain’t that sassy!” exclaimed Jim, in a burst of admiration.  “That’s what took me the first time I seen ’er.”

Then Miss Snow Number Two came in, and said it really was time for the ceremony to begin.  Such a job as she had had in seating people!

Oh, the mysteries of that little room!  How the people outside wondered what was going on there!  How the girls inside rejoiced in their official privileges!