When Will Crenshaw came home and was told this story, he said it didn't trouble him a bit.
"I'm not afraid of a rival like that," he remarked. "Such a suitor wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance."
"But I can tell you," said Madeline, "that you had better be up and doing on your own account. A girl like Belle needn't be expected to depend on the chance of a ghost."
Crenshaw heeded her words, and the young couple were married in the fall. The wedding took place in the little church near our house. It was a quiet marriage, and was attended by a strictly family party. At the conclusion of the ceremonies I felt, or saw, for I am sure I did not hear—a little sigh quite near me.
I turned, and sitting on the chancel-steps I saw the spectre of Buck Edwards. His head was bowed, and his hands, holding his hat and riding-whip, rested carelessly on his knees.
"Bedad, sir!" he exclaimed, "to think of it! If I hadn't cut up as I did I might have married, and have been that girl's grandfather!"
The idea made me smile.
"It can't be remedied now," I answered.
"Such a remark to make at a wedding!" said Madeline, giving me a punch with her reproachful elbow.
