In quick flashes the scenes of his boyhood came before him,--the days on shipboard, on the road with Ricks, at the Exposition, at Hollis Farm, at the university,--and through them all that golden thread of romance that had led him safe and true to the very heart of the enchanted land where he was to dwell forever.
"'Fore de Lawd, Mist' Sandy, ef you ain't fergit yer necktie!" It was Aunt Melvy who burst in upon his reverie with these ominous words.

She had been expected to assist with the wedding breakfast, but the events above-stairs had proved too alluring.
Sandy's hand flew to his neck.

"It's at the farm," he cried in great excitement, "wrapped in tissue-paper in the top drawer.

Send Jim, or Joe, or Nick--any of the darkies you can find!" "Send nuthin'," muttered Aunt Melvy, shuffling down the stairs.

"I's gwine myself, ef I has to take de bridal kerridge." Messengers were sent in hot haste, one to the farm and one to town, while Jimmy Reed was detailed to canvass the guests and see if a white four-in-hand might be procured.
"The nearest thing is Mr.Meech's," he reported on his fourth trip up-stairs; "it's a white linen string-tie, but he doesn't want to take it off." "Faith, and he'll have to!" said Sandy, in great agitation.