"I tarried thar till the last, hopin' to have still another taste of
toddy," remarked the aged merrymaker. "When a man has turned ninety he
might as well cease to take thought for his morals, an' let the natchel
bent of 'em have a chance."
It was plain that his last glass had been too much for him, and that,
for the first time in his temperate career, he was rapidly approaching a
condition of alcoholic ecstasy.
"You'd better go home and take a nap," said Abel kindly. "You can't very
well get lost between here and your house, or I'd go with you."
"It warn't the weddin' glass that was too much for me," replied the
old man at the point of tears, "'twas the one I had arterwards at the
or'nary. Not wishin' to depart from an old custom on account of a rare
festival, I stopped at Mrs. Bottom's just as young Mr. Jonathan an'
Reuben Merryweather's gal drove up from Applegate. Ah, sech a sight as
she was--all in shot silk that rustled when you looked at it--an' as
pretty as a pictur."
"So they've come back?" asked Abel, almost in a whisper.
"Yes, they've come back, an' a sad comin' it was for her, as I could see
in her face.
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