“‘Hiram, other folks think lumberin’ has spilt yeou; I don’t; they call yeou rough an’ rewd; I know you’ve got a real kind heart fer them as knows haow tew find it.  Them girls give yeou up so easy, ‘cause they never loved yeou, an’ yeou give them up ’cause yeou only thought abaout their looks an’ money.  I’m humly, an’ I’m poor; but I’ve loved yeou ever sence we went a-nuttin’ years ago, an’ yeou shook daown fer me, kerried my bag, and kissed me tew the gate, when all the others shunned me, ‘cause my father drank an’ I was shably dressed, ugly, an’ shy.  Yeou asked me in sport, I answered in airnest; but I don’t expect nothin’ unless yeou mean as I mean.  Like me, Hiram, or leave me, it won’t make no odds in my lovin’ er yeou, nor helpin’ er yeou, ef I kin.’

“‘Tain’t easy tew say haouw I felt, while she was goin’ on that way; but my idees was tumblin’ raound inside er me, as ef half a dozen dams was broke loose all tew oncet.  One thing was ruther stiddier ’n the rest, an’ that was that I liked Bewlah morn’n I knew.  I begun tew see what kep me loopin’ tew hum so much, sence aunt was took daown; why I want in no hurry tew git them other gals, an’ haow I come tew pocket my mittens so easy arfter the fust rile was over.  Bewlah was humly, poor in flesh, dreadful freckled, hed red hair, black eyes, an’ a gret mold side er her nose.  But I’d got wonted tew her; she knowed my ways, was a fust rate housekeeper, real good-tempered, and pious without flingin’ on’t in yer face.  She was a lonely creeter,—­her folks bein’ all dead but one sister, who didn’t use her waal, an’ somehow I kinder yearned over her, as they say in Scripter.  For all I set an’ gawped, I was coming raound fast, though I felt as I used tew, when I was goin’ to shoot the rapids, kinder breathless an’ oncertin, whether Id come aout right side up or not.  Queer, warn’t it?”

“Love, Flint; that was a sure symptom of it.”

“Waal, guess ’twas; anyway I jumped up all er a sudden, ketched Bewlah raound the neck, give her a hearty kiss, and sung aout, ’I’ll dew it sure’s my name’s Hi Flint!’ The words was scurcely aout er my maouth, ‘fore daown come Dr. Parr.  He’d ben up tew see aunt, an’ said she wouldn’t last the night threw, prob’ly.  That give me a scarer the wust kind; an’ when I told doctor haow things was, he sez, kinder jokin’,—­

“‘Better git merried right away, then.  Parson Dill is tew come an’ see the old lady, an’ he’ll dew both jobs tew oncet.’

“‘Will yeou, Bewlah?’ sez I.

“’Yes, Hiram, to ‘blige yeou,’ sez she.

“With that, I put it fer the parson and the license; got ’em both, an’ was back in less’n half an haour, most tuckered aout with the flurry er the hull concern.  Quick as I’d been, Bewlah hed faound time tew whip on her best gaoun, fix up her hair, and put a couple er white chrissanthymums intew her hank’chif pin.  Fer the fust time in her life, she looked harnsome,—­leastways I thought so,—­with a pretty color in her cheeks, somethin’ brighter’n a larf shinin’ in her eyes, an’ her lips smilin’ an’ tremblin’, as she come to me an’ whispered so’s’t none er the rest could hear,—­