Brian, still confused, but realizing that Mr. Ward had not recognized him, looked appealingly at Betty Jo and then to Auntie Sue. Auntie Sue spoke: “Mr. Ward is the uncle and guardian of Betty Jo, Brian.” “'Brian'!” ejaculated the banker. Auntie Sue continued: “Homer, dear, Betty Jo has presented HER author, Mr. Burns;--permit me to introduce MY Brian Kent!” And Judy remarked that evening, when, after supper, they were all on the porch watching the sunset: “Hit sure is dad burned funny how all tangled an' snarled up everythin' kin git 'fore a body kin think most, an', then, if a body'll just keep a-goin' right along, all ter onct hit's all straightened out as purty as anythin'.” They laughed happily at the mountain girl's words, and the dear old teacher's sweet voice answered: “Yes, Judy; it is all just like the river, don't you see?” “Meanin' as how the water gits all tangled an' mixed up when hit's a-boilin' an' a-roarin' like mad down there at Elbow Rock, an' then all ter onct gits all smooth an' calm like again,” returned Judy. “Meaning just that, Judy,” returned Auntie Sue. “No matter how tangled and confused life seems to be, it will all come straight at the last, if, like the river, we only keep going on.” And when the dreamy Indian-summer days were come and the blue haze of autumn lay softly over the brown and gold of the beautiful Ozark hills, the mountain folk of the Elbow Rock neighborhood gathered one day at the little log house by the river. It was a simple ceremony that made the man and the woman, who were so dear to Auntie Sue, husband and wife. But the backwoods minister was not wanting in dignity, though his dress was rude and his words plain; and the service lacked nothing of beauty and meaning, though the guests were but humble mountaineers; for love was there, and sincerity, and strength, and rugged kindliness. And when the simple wedding feast was over, they all went down to the river-bank, at the lower corner of the garden, where, at the eddy landing, a staunch John-boat waited, equipped and ready. When the last good-byes were spoken, and Brian and Betty Jo put out from the little harbor into the stream, Auntie Sue, with Judy and Homer T. Ward, went back to the porch of the little log house, there to watch the beginning of the voyage. With Brian at the oars, the boat crossed the stream to the safer waters close to the other shore, and then, with Betty Jo waving her handkerchief, and the neighbor men and boys running shouting along the bank, swept down the river, past the roaring turmoil of the Elbow Rock rapids into the quiet reaches below, and away on its winding course between the tree-clad hills. “I am so glad,” said Auntie Sue, her dear old face glowing with love, and her sweet voice tremulous with feeling, “I am so glad they chose the river for their wedding journey.”