Stand out, an' you'll live here alone without chick 'r child; give in, and this house 'll bubble over with noise and young ones.

Now is short, and forever's a long time to feel sorry in." The old man at the table knitted his eyebrows, and a distorted, quivering, ghastly smile broke out on his face.

His chest heaved; then he burst forth: "Gal, yank them gloves off, an' git me something to eat--breakfus 'r dinner, I don't care which.

Lime, you infernal idiot, git out there and gear up them horses.

What in thunder you foolun' around about hyere in seed'n'?
Come, hustle, all o' ye!" And then they shouted in laughter, while the cause of it all strode unsteadily but resolutely out toward the barn, followed by the bridegroom, who was laughing--silently.
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