We sat in the cabin until it was awful late, hoping Mr. Edwin Skreever was only out somewhere hunting Rover, but he did not come. We couldn’t fool ourselves. We knew we had nailed May’s bridegroom inside that barge and sent him down the river--nobody could tell how far, perhaps all the way to New Orleans! And the wedding was the next day! Well, it was terrible! We tried to think that we had not done anything wrong--that we had only tried to keep our dog from being stolen--but it was no comfort. About midnight we heard the creak of Orpheus Cadwallader’s oars as he rowed home from town, but that did not comfort us much, either. We went to sleep right there in the living-room of the cottage, thinking what would happen to us the next day when the wedding-time came and there was no Mr. Edwin Skreever. I dreamed awful things all night, but the worst was a dream about May. She was all dressed up in her wedding clothes, with a white veil and flowers, and when it came time to be married, Mr. Edwin Skreever was not there, so she wept and wept. Mother and father were very stern and cross, and mother said, “Well, there is no help for it; you will have to marry Rover!” so they dragged Rover in, yowling and pulling back, and father and Mr. Smale held him up on his hind legs and then, all of a sudden, Rover gave a big wiggle and turned into a pile of rusty nails. Then May wept again, and in came Mr. Edwin Skreever, but he was nothing but bones--just plain skeleton bones. He pointed his bone finger at me and opened his bone face and I thought he was going to speak, but he didn’t. He let out a noise like Mr. Jack Betts’s Skittery III. That woke me up and, sure enough, I was hearing the noise of the Skittery III. It wakened Wampus, too, and we went to the door, rubbing our eyes. The Skittery III swung in toward our cottage and Mr. Jack Betts shut off her power and taxied in. He jumped ashore and climbed up the rocks. “Hello, young fellows!” he said. “May and your folks sent me up; they’ve changed their minds--want you and Skreever to come down right away and not wait until noon.” “Well--” I said. “Well; all right.” “What’s all the welling about, son?” Mr. Jack Betts asked. “Well, I don’t know,” I said. “I guess there isn’t going to be any wedding. I guess maybe Mr. Edwin Skreever won’t be there.” “He isn’t here,” said Wampus. Then I thought of something. “Unless you would be the bridegroom,” I said to Mr. Jack Betts. “I guess May wouldn’t like to get all ready for a wedding and not have one. I guess, when she’s got her dress and the house all decorated and everything--” “My word!” said Mr. Jack Betts, laughing. “What are you trying to do? Are you asking me to marry your sister?” “Yes, sir,” I said. “As a substitute? My word!” “Well--well--” I said, and then he laughed again. “What’s all this about Ed Skreever not being here and not being there and not being anywhere?” he asked.