An account of the marriage, written by an effusive correspondent, was published in a newspaper at the State Capital; and a few days later the same journal contained an editorial bearing upon the subject, taking the populistic party to task for its lamentable want of sense in legislation. The State press took the matter up, and then the "paragrapher" had his season of merry-making. "We have always heard it declared," said one, "that marriage is a plunge in the dark, but a preacher over at Old Ebenezer proves that it is all a joke." And this from another one: "'What do you think of young Parson Bostic?' was asked of Banker McElwin. 'I didn't think he was loaded,' the financier replied." It was said that a great batch of this drivel was cut out, credited and sent to McElwin, and Lyman accused Warren, but he denied it, though not with convincing grace. One evening a picnic was given on the lawn of a prominent citizen. It had been heralded as a moonlight event, but the moon was sullen and the light was shed from paper lanterns hung in the trees. There was to be no dancing and no forfeit games, for McElwin was still raw, and the master of the gathering on the lawn would not dare to throw sand on the spots where the rich man's prideful skin had been raked off. The entertainment was to consist of talk among the older ones, chatter among the slips of girls and striplings of men, with music for all. "You will have to go to write it up," Warren said to Lyman. "It won't be necessary to go," Lyman replied. "We can hold a pleasanter memory of such events if we don't really see them. I can write of it from a distance." "Yes, but that isn't enterprise, and we want to prove to these people that we are enterprising. They must see you on the ground." "All right." "You will go, then?" "That's what I meant when I said all right." "And you didn't mean that you'd simply look over the fence and then come away?" "No, I mean that I'll go and be a fool with the rest of them." "That's all I ask. Here's an invitation. You'll have to show it at the gate." "Why don't you go, Warren?" "It would be absurd." "Why? Your clothes might be worse." "There are a good many observations that don't apply to clothes. The entertainment is to be given by the Hon. Mr. S. Boyd. One time, with great reluctance, he lifted a grinding heel off my head. I owe him five dollars." "And it would be embarrassing to meet him, by invitation, on his own lawn." "Yes. I'll pay him one of these days, but of course he doesn't know that." "Probably he doesn't even suspect it," said Lyman. "No. He's dull, and not inclined to be speculative." "I should take him to be wildly adventurous." "Why so?" "He let you have five dollars." "Oh, I see. But that's all right. He'll treat you well. Say, he may pass cigars with a gilt band around them. Put a few in your pocket for me." "I might have a chance to sneak a whole box."