Sue ought to have been married a long while ago. That's what everybody
says who knows her. She has been engaged to Mr. Travers for three years,
and has had to refuse lots of offers to go to the circus with other
young men. I have wanted her to get married, so that I could go and live
with her and Mr. Travers. When I think that if it hadn't been for a
mistake I made she would have been married yesterday, I find it
dreadfully hard to be resigned. But we ought always to be resigned to
everything when we can't help it.
Before I go any further I must tell about my printing-press. It belonged
to Tom McGinnis, but he got tired of it and sold it to me real cheap. He
was going to write to the YOUNG PEOPLE's Post-office Box and offer to
exchange it for a bicycle, a St. Bernard dog, and twelve good books, but
he finally let me have it for a dollar and a half.
It prints beautifully, and I have printed cards for ever so many people,
and made three dollars and seventy cents already. I thought it would be
nice to be able to print circus bills in case Tom and I should ever have
another circus, so I sent to the city and bought some type mornaninch
high, and some beautiful yellow paper.
Last week it was finally agreed that Sue and Mr. Travers should be
married without waiting any longer. You should have seen what a state of
mind she and mother were in. They did nothing but buy new clothes, and
sew, and talk about the wedding all day long. Sue was determined to be
married in church, and to have six bridesmaids and six bridegrooms, and
flowers and music and things till you couldn't rest. The only thing that
troubled her was making up her mind who to invite. Mother wanted her to
invite Mr. and Mrs. McFadden and the seven McFadden girls, but Sue said
they had insulted her, and she couldn't bear the idea of asking the
McFadden tribe. Everybody agreed that old Mr. Wilkinson, who once came
to a party at our house with one boot and one slipper, couldn't be
invited; but it was decided that every one else that was on good terms
with our family should have an invitation.
Sue counted up all the people she meant to invite, and there was nearly
three hundred of them. You would hardly believe it, but she told me that
I must carry around all the invitations and deliver them myself. Of
course I couldn't do this without neglecting my studies and losing
time, which is always precious, so I thought of a plan which would save
Sue the trouble of directing three hundred invitations and save me from
wasting time in delivering them.
I got to work with my printing-press, and printed a dozen splendid big
bills about the wedding. When they were printed I cut a lot of small
pictures of animals and ladies riding on horses out of some old circus
bills and pasted them on the wedding bills. They were perfectly
gorgeous, and you could see them four or five rods off. When they were
all done I made some paste in a tin pail, and went out after dark and
pasted them in good places all over the village. I put one on Mr.
Wilkinson's front-door, and one on the fence opposite the McFaddens'
house, so they would be sure to see it.
[Illustration: SHE GAVE AN AWFUL SHRIEK AND FAINTED AWAY.]
The next afternoon father came into the house looking very stern, and
carrying one of the wedding bills in his hand. He handed it to Sue and
said, "Susan, what does this mean? These bills are pasted all over the
village, and there are crowds of people reading them." Sue read the
bill, and then she gave an awful shriek, and fainted away, and I hurried
down to the post-office to see if the mail had come in. This is what was
on the wedding bills, and I am sure it was spelled all right: