Then, Uncle Dick, in his turn, displayed some slight symptoms of embarrassment, and cleared his throat in a manner to shock a drawing-room.
"An' now I got jest one leetle favor to ax o' ye, Seth Jones. You-all knows as how the gals in this-hyar kentry air partic'lar proud to have a weddin' ring made from the gold washed out o' the soil in Pleasant Valley by their sweetheart. Wall, I talked a heap 'bout hit to Fanny, an', when she showed signs like she'd give in to me, I went an' panned the gold fer the ring. Fanny'd be right-smart disapp'inted not to have a lover-made ring, I reckon. So, bein' as you-all only got one arm, I wants ye to take this-hyar ring, an' wed her proper with the blessin' an' best wishes o' Uncle Dick Siddon."
He offered the ring, which was gratefully accepted, and the two old men parted on excellent terms.
* * * * * At eleven o'clock the next morning, Uncle Dick was sitting on the porch, when he saw a horse passing over the trail toward the south. In the saddle was the erect, spruce figure of the one-armed veteran, Seth Jones. And, on a blanket strapped behind the saddle to serve as pillion, rode a woman, with her arms clasped around the man's waist. It was the Widow Brown, dressed all in gala white.
It was, indeed, heigh-ho for the parson!
Uncle Dick stared fixedly until the two had vanished beyond the brow of the hill. Then, at last, he stirred, and his eyes roved over his home and its surroundings wistfully. He sighed heavily. But he himself would have been hard put to it to tell whether that sigh held more of regret, or of relief.