“I beg your pardon, my dear sir, but what is the total of my indebtedness to you?”

“Nineteen dollars and twenty-eight cents, and I want you to understand that—­”

Major Hardee held up a slim, white hand.

“One moment, if you please,” he said.  “Now, Augustus.”

Augustus opened the desk in the corner and produced an imposing stack of bank notes.  Then he brought forth neat piles of halves, quarters, dimes, and pennies, and arranged the whole upon the table.  Obed’s mouth and those of his companions gaped in amazement.

“Have you your bill with you, Mr. Gott?” inquired the Major.

Dazedly Mr. Gott produced the required document.

“Thank you.  Augustus, nineteen twenty-eight to this gentleman.  Kindly receipt the bill, Mr. Gott, if you please.  A mere formality, of course, but it is well to be exact.  Thank you, sir.  And now, Mr. Higgins.”

One by one the creditors shamefacedly stepped forward, received the amount due, receipted the bill, and stepped back again.  Mr. Peters, the photographer, was the last to sign.

“Gentlemen,” said the Major, “I am sorry that my carelessness in financial matters should have caused you this trouble, but now that you are here, a representative gathering of East Harniss’s men of affairs, upon this night of all nights, it seems fitting that I should ask for your congratulations.  Augustus.”

The wooden-faced Augustus retired to the next room and reappeared carrying a tray upon which were a decanter and glasses.

“Gentlemen,” continued the Major, “I have often testified to my admiration and regard for your—­perhaps I may now say our—­charming village.  This admiration and regard has extended to the fair daughters of the township.  It may be that some of you have conscientious scruples against the use of intoxicants.  These scruples I respect, but I am sure that none of you will refuse to at least taste a glass of wine with me when I tell you that I have this day taken one of the fairest to love and cherish during life.”

He stepped to the door of the dining room, opened it, and said quietly, “My dear, will you honor us with your presence?”

There was a rustle of black silk and there came through the doorway the stately form of her who had been Mrs. Polena Ginn.

“Gentlemen,” said the Major, “permit me to present to you my wife, the new mistress of ‘Silverleaf Hall.’”

The faces of the ex-creditors were pictures of astonishment.  Mr. Gott’s expressive countenance turned white, then red, and then settled to a mottled shade, almost as if he had the measles.  Polena rushed to his side.

“O Obed!” she exclaimed.  “I know we’d ought to have told you, but ’twas only Tuesday the Major asked me, and we thought we’d keep it a secret so’s to s’prise you.  Mr. Langworthy over to Orham married us, and—­”

“My dear,” her husband blandly interrupted, “we will not intrude our private affairs upon the patience of these good friends.  And now, gentlemen, let me propose a toast:  To the health and happiness of the mistress of ‘Silverleaf Hall’!  Brother Obed, I—­”