"Yes."
"For you to keep and not give back?"
"Yes, of course!"
"But Henry Wheelock made it for me out of a ten-cent piece. I've only
had it a little while."
"Oh, Cyrus! Would you be so mean as that?"
"I'm not mean! You know I'm not mean! Henry Wheelock made it out of my
own ten-cent piece and I--I--don't want to lose it."
A look of sorrow in Ruth's eyes suddenly changed to contempt. "Then
keep your old ring! I'm sure I don't want it." And she pulled away the
hand that was in his, wheeled about and started to reënter the house.
But Cyrus caught her by the arm.
"Oh, that's all right, Ruthy! You shall have it. Come. Don't let's
fight."
So began this lovers' quarrel. But as often happens, the male of
the species besought and appealed, apologized, promised everything,
acknowledged guilt and sufficiently humbled himself until Sweet Peace
returned. Then all was forgiven, and a second time they started for the
church. Zac brought up the rear.
On the church steps sat Luther Dean and the New Boy. The New Boy had
lived in Longfields only a few weeks. He differed, in many ways,
from the other boys of the village. He was blasé, and older in his
feelings; he came from a larger town and had seen more of the world.
His tendency, now,--natural, perhaps, but unrepressed--was to despise
more simple people. He gave the impression among still younger boys
of having crowded into his ten years of life a red career of war and
piracy, of wild adventure, of reckless deeds and thrilling escapes.
These experiences were rather suggested than described, always in a
casual off-hand way, calmly and without excitement, in a voice and
manner tempered by the wisdom of the ages. And his eyes, light blue
and frigidly serene, moved slowly from one listener to another in a
weary but patient condescension. His usual haunts, it appeared, were
the upper ether, and the deep sea, the cañon and the prairie, the
impenetrable forest, the decks of battleships and fields of carnage.
As the bridal couple approached the steps, Cyrus called to Luther
Dean and beckoned to him. Luther came forward. So also did the New
Boy--the Budding Outlaw--although he was not invited; and his presence
embarrassed Cyrus, for this was a private business, in a sense, and
not for the general public. Besides, Cyrus did not like the New Boy.
However, he braced up and put on a careless front.
"We want you to marry us, Luther, now, here in the church."