“Ah, to think of Abel bein’ at his own weddin’ an’ we settin’ here,” piped grandfather. “’Twas a hasty business, but we Revercombs were al’ays the folk to swallow our puddin’ while ‘twas smokin’ an’ then cry out that we didn’t know ’twas hot.  I never knew one of us that didn’t have to larn he was a fool befo’ he could come at any wisdom.”

“Well, I ain’t got anything particular against the girl,” said Sarah, “but it’s my bounden belief that she’ll turn out a slattern.  Thar’s something moonstruck about her—­you can tell it by that shiftin’ skeered-rabbit look in her eyes.  She’s just the sort to sweep all the trash under the bed an’ think she’s cleaned the room.”

“It’s amazin’, the small sense men have in sech matters,” remarked grandfather.  “Thar’s a feelin’ among us, I don’t know whar it comes from, that the little and squinched-up women generally run to virtue.”

“Oh, I ain’t sayin’ she’s not a good girl accordin’ to her lights,” returned Sarah, “an’, after all, it ain’t a man but his mother that suffers from a slattern.  Well, I must go an’ lay off my weeds befo’ it’s time for ’em to get here.  Don’t you fret, ma, Mrs. Hatch is surely goin’ to send you something.”

Inspired by this prophecy, grandmother began immediately to show signs of reviving hope, and a little later, when the sound of wheels was heard on the road, she was seized with an anticipation so violent that she fluttered like a withered leaf in the wind.  Then the wheels stopped at the gate, and Blossom and Mr. Mullen entered, bearing a small basket, which contained disordered remains of the wedding feast.

“Whar’s Abel?” inquired Sarah, bowing stiffly to the young clergyman.

“We passed them in the road.  My horse for once outstripped his mare,” replied Mr. Mullen, who felt a crawling sensation in the back of his neck whenever Sarah was present, as if he were called upon to face in her single person an entire parsimonious vestry.  “I had the pleasure of driving your granddaughter home, and now I must be going back to bring mother.  It was a delightful occasion, Mrs. Revercomb, and you are to be congratulated on the charming addition to your family.”  He hadn’t meant to use the word “charming”—­he had intended to say “estimable” instead—­but Sarah embarrassed him by her expression, and it slipped out before he was aware of it.  Her manner annoyed him excessively.  It was as bad as looking up suddenly in the midst of one of the finest paragraphs in his sermon and meeting a supercilious look on a face in his congregation.

“Humph!” observed Sarah shortly, and when he had gone, she emitted the sound again, half to herself, half to her audience, “humph!”

“What’s the matter, grandma?” inquired Blossom listlessly, “you don’t look as if you were pleased.”

“Oh, I’m pleased,” replied Sarah curtly.  “I’m pleased.  Did you notice how yellow Abel was lookin’ at the weddin’?  What he needs is a good dose of castor oil.  I’ve seen him like that befo’, an’ I know.”