They have gone, with the stagecoaches and country-newspapers;
and the places that knew them will know them no more.
Betsy Ann, who was mercifully admitted to the wedding, pronounced
it without hesitation the "flattest thing she ever see,"--and was
straightway dismissed by Polly, with an extra frosted cake, and a charge
to "get along home with herself." Then Mr. Sampson walked slowly home
with Mr. Price, and Laura and myself were left looking at each other.
"Delphiny!" said Laura.
"Ameriky!" said I.
"Well,--it's over now. If you had happened to be Mrs. Conant's daughter,
you know, your name would have been Keren-happuch!"
"On the whole, I am glad it wasn't in church," said I.
Mr. Sampson returned before we had finished talking of that. And then
Laura, said, suddenly,--
"But you _must_ decide on Aunt Allen's gift, Del. What shall it be? What
will be pretty?"
"You shall decide," said I, amiably, turning to my husband.
"Oh, I have no notion of what is pretty,--at least of but one
thing,--and that is not in Aunt Allen's gift.
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