I've always loved you."
The little old inventor watched the radiant pair a moment then motioned
to the villagers to slip away. But Bartley Coffin could not be
restrained from lagging behind and whispering confidentially in Jack's
ear:
"If you want to be truly happy, mate, an' live clear of a life of
pesterin', don't you never buy Sarah Libbie a satin dress! Minnie an'
I have made it up, thanks to Willie Spence, but 'twas a tussle. I'd
come to the jumpin'-off place."
The statement was but too true. Willie had indeed intervened and
averted a tragedy, but the feat had demanded ruthless measures, and he
had trudged home from the Coffins with the bone of contention clutched
rigidly beneath his arm.
That night Celestina heard muffled sounds in the workshop.
"Oh, my land!" she murmured. "If Willie ain't hitched again! I did
hope nothin' new would come to him 'til he got rested up from this
other idee."
But Willie's inspiration was not of the inventive type. Instead the
little old man was standing before the stove, kindling a fire, and into
its crackling blaze he was bundling the last remnants of Minnie
Coffin's far-famed black satin.
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