“I’m glad you hated him. I suffered rattlesnakes and collapsed flues for fear you’d go and love him.”
“My affections were engaged” she said with simple seriousness.
“Oh, if I’d only thought so long ago! How lovely you are!” exclaims Bill, in an ecstasy. “And how refined! And how good! God bless you!”
He made up such a wishful mouth, — so wishful for one of the pleasurable duties of mouths, that Belle blushed, laughed, and looked down, and as she did so saw that one of her straps was trailing.
“Please fix it, Bill,” she said, stopping and kneeling.
Bill also knelt, and his wishful mouth immediately took its chance.
A manly smack and sweet little feminine chirp sounded as their lips met.
Boom! twanging gay as the first tap of a marriage-bell, a loud crack in the ice rang musically for leagues up and down the river. “Bravo!” it seemed to say. “Well done. Bill Tarbox! Try again!” Which the happy fellow did, and the happy maiden permitted.
“Now,” said Bill, “let us go and hug Mr. Wade!”
“What! Both of us?” Belle protested. “Mr. Tarbox, I am ashamed of you!”
