Vociferating, blasphemous, furious, Sally Fannie's tyrant charged the steps and then recoiled at their foot. A lean, sinewy old man in a hickory shirt barred his way, and just beyond this barrier a stout old man with his feet in a foot-tub loomed both large and formidable. For the moment baffled, he gave voice to vain and profane foolishness. “Stop them two!” he yelled, his rage making him almost inarticulate. “She ain't of age--and even ef she is I ain't agoin' to have this!” “Say, ain't you got no politeness a'tall!” inquired Mr. Ezell, of Georgia. “Don't you see you're interruptin' the holy rites of matrimony--carryin' on thataway?” “That's whut I aim to do, blame you!” howled the other, now sensing for the first time the full import of the situation. “I'll matrimony her, the little----” He spat out the foulest word our language yields for fouler tongues to use. “That ain't all--I'll cut the heart out of the man that interferes!” Driving his right hand into his right trousers pocket he cleared the three lower steps at a bound and teetered upon his toes on the very edge of the fourth one. In the act of making his hand into a fist Mr. Ezell discovered he could not do so by reason of his fingers being twined in the handle of a large, extra-heavy ironstone-china teacup. So he did the next best thing--he threw the cup with all his might, which was considerable. At close range this missile took the enemy squarely in the chest and staggered him back. And as he staggered back, clutching to regain his balance, Mr. Bloomfield, standing somewhat in the rear and improvising as fast as his tongue could wag, uttered the concluding, fast-binding words: “Therefore I pernounce you man and wife; and, whatever you do, don't never let nobody come betwixt you, asunderin' you apart!” With a lightning-fast dab of his whiskers he kissed the bride--he had a flashing intuition that this was required by the ritual--shoved the pair inside Doctor Grundy's front hall, slammed the door behind them, snatched up Sergeant Bagby's rusted rifle from where it leaned against Doctor Grundy's porch post, and sprang forward in a posture combining defence and offense. All in a second or two Mr. Bloomfield did this. Even so, his armed services were no longer required; for Sergeant Jimmy Bagby stepped nimbly out of his tub, picked it up in both hands and turned it neatly yet crashingly upside down upon the head of the bride's step-parent--so that its contents, which had been cold and were still coolish, cascaded in swishing gallons down over his person, effectually chilling the last warlike impulse of his drenched and dripping bosom, and rendering him in one breath whipped, choked and tamed. “With the compliments of the Southern Confederacy!” said Sergeant Bagby, so doing.