It had been a trying day for us, so soon Jerrine and I slipped out to our room.  Ours was the first room off the sitting-room, and a long hallway led past our door; a bench sat against the wall, and it seemed a favorite roosting-place for people with long discussions.  First some fellows were discussing the wedding.  One thought Bishey “cracked” because he had shipped out an old cooking-stove, one of the first manufactured, all the way from where he came from, instead of buying a new one nearer home.  They recalled instance after instance in which he had acted queerly, but to me his behavior was no longer a mystery.  I know the stove belonged somewhere in the past and that his every act connected past and future.  After they had talked themselves tired, two old fellows took possession of the bench and added a long discussion on how to grow corn to the general din.  Even sweet corn cannot be successfully grown at this altitude, yet those old men argued pro and con till I know their throats must have ached.  In the sitting-room they all talked at once of ditches, water-contracts, and sheep.  I was so sleepy.  I heard a tired clock away off somewhere strike two.  Some sheep-men had the bench and were discussing the relative values of different dips.  I reckon my ego must have gotten tangled with some one’s else about then, for I found myself sitting up in bed foolishly saying,—­

    “Two old herders, unshaved and hairy,
    Whose old tongues are never weary,
    Just outside my chamber-door
    Prate of sheep dips for ever more.”

Next morning it was Bishey’s cheerful voice that started my day.  I had hoped to be up in time to see them off, but I wasn’t.  I heard him call out to Mrs. Bishey, “Miss Em’ly, I’ve got the boxes all loaded.  We can start home in ten minutes.”  I heard her clear voice reply, “You’ve done well, Bishey.  I’ll be ready by then.”  I was hurriedly dressing, hoping yet to see her, when I heard Bishey call out to bluff old Colonel Winters, who had arrived in the night and had not known of the wedding, “Hello!  Winters, have you met Miss Em’ly?  Come over here and meet her.  I’m a married man now.  I married Miss Em’ly last night.”  The colonel couldn’t have known how apt was his reply when he said, “I’m glad for you, Bishey.  You’ve done well.”  I peeked between the curtains, and saw Bishey’s wagon piled high with boxes, with Miss Em’ly, self-possessed and happy, greeting the colonel.  Soon I heard the rattle of wheels, and the dear old happy pair were on their way to the cabin home they had waited twenty-five years for.  Bless the kind old hearts of them!  I’m sure they’ve both “done well.”

XXV

AMONG THE MORMONS

     November, 1913.

MY DEAR FRIEND,—­

I have wanted to write you for a long time, but have been so busy.  I have had some visitors and have been on a visit; I think you would like to hear about it all, so I will tell you.