CHAPTER VI.
MIKE AND SALLY.
I have spoken of Sally, but have said nothing of Mike, whom, of all my father's hired men, I liked the best.

He it was who made the best cornstalk fiddles, and whittled out the shrillest whistles with which to drive grandma "ravin' distracted." He, too, it was who, on cold winter mornings, carried Lizzie to school in his arms, making me forget how my fingers ached, by telling some exploit of _his_ schooldays.
I do not wonder that Sally liked him, and I always had an idea how that liking would end, but did not think it would be so soon.
Consequently I suspected nothing when Sally's white dress was bleached on the grass in the clothesyard for nearly a week.

One day Billy came to me with a face full of wonder, saying he had just overheard Mike tell one of the men that he and Sally were going to be married in a few weeks.
I knew now what all that bleaching was for, and why Sally bought so much cotton lace of pedlers.

I was in ecstasies, too, for I had never seen anyone married, but regretted the circumstance, whatever it might have been, which prevented me from being present at mother's marriage.
Like many other children I have been deceived into the belief that the marriage ceremony consisted mainly in leaping the broomstick, and by myself I had frequently tried the experiment, delighted to find that I could jump it at almost any distance from the ground; but I had some misgivings as to Sally's ability to clear the stick, for she was rather clumsy; however, I should see the fun, for they were to be married at our house.
A week before the time appointed mother was taken very ill, which made it necessary that the wedding should be postponed, or take place somewhere else.

To the first Mike would not hear, and as good old Parson S----, whose sermons were never more than two hours long, came regularly every Sunday night to preach in the schoolhouse, Mike proposed that they be married there.