"Tom Camp, you don't want to forget you were not a saint when I stood up with you one day," cried his wife with a twinkle in her eye.
"That's a fact, ole woman," grinned Tom.
"You never give me a day's trouble after I got hold of you. Sometimes the wildest colts make the safest horses."
"Yes, that's so. It's owing to who has the breaking of 'em," thoughtfully answered Tom.
"I like Hose. He's full of fun, but he'll settle down and make her a good husband."
The girl slipped close to her mother and squeezed her hand.
"Do you love him much, child?" asked her father.
"Well enough to live and scrub and work for him and to die for him, I reckon."
"All right, that settles it, you're too many for me, you and Hose and your Maw. Get ready for it quick. We'll have the weddin' Wednesday night. This home is goin' to be sold Thursday for taxes and it will be our last night under our own roof. We'll make the best of it."
It was so fixed. On Wednesday night Hose came down from the foothills with three kindred spirits, and an old fiddler to make the music. He wanted to have a dance and plenty of liquor fresh from the mountain-dew district. But Tom put his foot down on it.
"No dancin' in my house, Hose, and no licker," said Tom with emphasis. "I'm a deacon in the Baptist church. I used to be young and as good lookin' as you, my boy, but I've done with them things. You're goin' to take my little gal now. I want you to quit your foolishness and be a man."
"I will, Tom, I will. She is the prettiest sweetest little thing in this world, and to tell you the truth I'm
