Susan wandered by with a hoe in her hand and her second best bonnet on
her head.
"I have just finished reading a piece in the Enterprise which told of a
couple being married in an aeroplane. Do you think it would be legal,
doctor dear?" she inquired anxiously.
"I think so," said the doctor gravely.
"Well," said Susan dubiously, "it seems to me that a wedding is too
solemn for anything so giddy as an aeroplane. But nothing is the same as
it used to be. Well, it is half an hour yet before prayer-meeting time,
so I am going around to the kitchen garden to have a little evening hate
with the weeds. But all the time I am strafing them I will be thinking
about this new worry in the Trentino. I do not like this Austrian caper,
Mrs. Dr. dear."
"Nor I," said Mrs. Blythe ruefully. "All the forenoon I preserved
rhubarb with my hands and waited for the war news with my soul. When it
came I shrivelled. Well, I suppose I must go and get ready for the
prayer-meeting, too."
Every village has its own little unwritten history, handed down from lip
to lip through the generations, of tragic, comic, and dramatic events.
They are told at weddings and festivals, and rehearsed around winter
firesides. And in these oral annals of Glen St. Mary the tale of the
union prayer-meeting held that night in the Methodist Church was
destined to fill an imperishable place.
The union prayer-meeting was Mr.
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