The wedding company was small, but select.  Judge Baxter and his wife were there and the Keiths—­Mrs. Keith condescended to ornament the occasion; some of the “best people” had seen fit to make much of Mary Lathrop and Mrs. Keith never permitted herself to be very far behind the best people in anything—­and Mrs. Wyeth was there, and Miss Pease, and Mr. Green who had received an invitation and had come from Boston, and Doctor Harley, and Simeon Crocker and his “steady company,” one of the tea-room young ladies, and Annabel and—­and—­well, a dozen or fifteen more.

When the minister asked, “Who giveth this woman to this man?” Zoeth answered, bravely, “I do—­that is, me and Shadrach.”  But no one laughed, because Zoeth himself was trying to smile and making rather wet weather of it.  As for the Captain, his expression during the ceremony was a sort of fixed grin which he had assumed before entering the room and had evidently determined to wear to the finish, no matter what his emotions might be.  But Miss Pease, always susceptible, had a delightful cry all to herself, and Isaiah, retiring to the hall, blew his nose with a vigor which, as Captain Shad said afterwards, “had the Pollack Rip foghorn soundin’ like a deef and dumb sign.”

Mary had managed everything, of course.  Her uncles had tried to remonstrate with her, telling her there were plenty of others to arrange the flowers and attend to what the local newspaper would, in its account of the affair, be sure to call the “collation,” and to make the hundred and one preparations necessary for even so small and simple a wedding as this.  But she only laughed at their remonstrances.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” she said.  “I have always wanted to manage someone’s wedding and I am certainly not going to let anyone else manage mine.  I don’t care a bit whether it is the proper thing or not.  This isn’t going to be a formal affair; I won’t have it so.  Uncle Shad, if you want to say ‘Jumpin’ fire’ when Crawford drops the ring, as he is almost sure to do, you have my permission.”

But Crawford did not drop the ring, and so the Captain’s favorite exclamation was not uttered, being unnecessary.  In fact there were no mishaps, everything went exactly as it should, reception and “collation” included, and, to quote from the South Harniss local once more, “A good time was had by all.”

And when the bride and groom, dressed in their traveling costumes, came down the stairs to the carriage which was to take them to the station, Mary ran back, amid the shower of rice and confetti, to kiss Uncle Zoeth and Uncle Shad once more and whisper in their ears not to feel that she had really gone, because she hadn’t but would be back in just a little while.

“And I have told Isaiah about your rubbers and oilskins when it rains,” she added, in Shadrach’s ear, “and he is not to forget Uncle Zoeth’s medicine.  Good-by.  Good-by.  Don’t be lonesome.  Promise that you won’t.”