"Feel glorious if I was in his place."
"What! marrying Ina Haverland?"
"No—I mean—ahem!—why, somebody else—that is—yes, somebody else."
"Who else do you mean?" asked the girl, looking him steadily in the face.
"Why—ahem!—why, you! darn it, now you know, don't you?"
"Sh! Don't talk so loud, Josiah, or they'll hear you."
"S'posen you was in her place, Sal; how would you feel?"
"Ain't you ashamed of yourself?" she asked eprovingly.
"No, darnation, I don't care. Say, Sal, how would you feel?"
"Do you mean if I was standing out there with you, and the minister talking so to us?"
"Yes—yes; why don't you tell me?"
"You know well enough, Josiah, without asking me no such question."
Josiah commenced meditating. Some desperate scheme was evidently troubling him, for he scratched his head and then his knees, and then laughed, and exclaimed to himself, "I'll do it, by George!" Then turning toward the girl, he said:
"Sal, let's you and I get married, won't you?"
"Why, Josiah!" and she hung her head and blushed charmingly.
"Come, Sal, the old folks won't care. Let's do it, won't you?"
"Oh, Josiah!" she continued, growing nervous and fidgety.
"Come, say quick, for the dominie is near done, and he'll go home. Say yes; Sal, do."
"Oh, dear! oh, my stars!—yes!"
"Good, by jingo! Hurry up there, Mr. Preacher."
At this point, the good minister ceased his benediction upon the couples, and their friends commenced crowding around them. The minister started, not to go home, but to leave the room for a moment, when Josiah noticed it, and fearing that he was going, called out:
"Say, squire—you, dominie, I mean, just wait, won't you here's another job for you."
