“It hasn’t come yet,” Carroll replied.

Chapter XIX

As Ina Carroll’s wedding-day drew nearer, the excitement in Banbridge increased.  It was known that the services of a New York caterer had been engaged.  Blumenfeldt was decorating the church, Samson Rawdy was furbishing up all his vehicles and had hired supplementary ones from New Sanderson.

“No girl has ever went from this town as that Carroll girl will,” he told his wife, who assisted him to clean the carriage cushions.

“I s’pose the folks will dress a good deal,” said she, brushing assiduously.

“You bet,” said her husband.

“Well, they won’t get no dirt on their fine duds off your carriage-seats,” said she.  She was large and perspiring, but full of the content of righteous zeal.  She and Samson Rawdy thoroughly enjoyed the occasion, and he was, moreover, quite free from any money anxiety regarding it.  At first he had been considerably exercised.  He had come home and conferred with his wife, who was the business balance-wheel of the family.

“Carroll has been speakin’ to me about providin’ carriages for his daughter’s weddin’, an’ I dunno about it,” said he.

“How many does he want?” inquired his wife.  He had sunk on his doorstep on coming home at dusk, and sat with speculative eyes on the pale western sky, while his wife sat judicially, quite filling with her heated bulk a large rocking-chair, placed for greater coolness in front of the step, in the middle of the slate walk.

“He wants all mine and all I can hire in New Sanderson,” replied Rawdy.

“Lord!” ejaculated his wife.  “All them?”

“All them,” replied Rawdy, moodily triumphant.

“Well,” said his wife, “that ain’t the point.”

“No, it ain’t,” agreed Rawdy.

“The point is,” said she, “is he agoin’ to or ain’t he agoin’ to pay.”

“That’s so,” said Rawdy.

“He’s a-owin’ everybody, ain’t he?” said the wife.

“Pooty near, I guess.”

“Well, you ain’t goin’ to let one of your cerridges go, let alone hirin’, unless he pays ahead.”

“Lord!  Dilly, how’m I goin’ to ask him?” protested Rawdy.

“How?  Why, the way anybody would ask him.  ’Ain’t you got a tongue in your head?” demanded she.

“You dunno what a man he is.  I asked him the other night when I drove him up, and it wa’n’t a job I liked, I can tell you.”

“Did he pay you?”

“Paid me some of it.”

“He’s owin’ you now, ain’t he?”

“Well, he ain’t owin’ much, only the few times their cerridge ’ain’t been down.  It ain’t much, Dilly.”

“But it’s something.”

“Yes; everythin’ that ain’t nothin’ is somethin’, I s’pose.”

“And now you’re goin’ right on an’ lettin’ him have all your cerridges, and you’ll be wantin’ me to help clean the seats, too, I’ll warrant, and you’re agoin’ to hire into the bargain, with him owin’ you and owin’ everybody else in town.”