A Sanctioned Elopement

Cromwell Argus, Volume LX, Issue 3111, 12 May 1930, Page 7

A Sanctioned Elopement

HOW IT HAPPENED

By Ruth Birdsall

Caleb Carter was close, painfully close. Some folks said he'd squeeze every penny till it hollered, and I guess that was putting it mildly. Martha, his wife, had lived with him so long and put up with his foibles for so many years that she'd become an expert at getting round him. She'd wheedle things out of him without his even suspecting it —nothing wrong in it. 'cause she never wheedled for anything 'cept what ought to have been anywhere. But that's neither here nor there. I set out to tell you about Caleb's daughter Sally's elopement. Sally was the prettiest girl in the district, and much sought after. She was as nice to one suitor as to another and everybody was guessing which one she really favored. The minister said he sometimes felt that if it hadn't been wicked most of his congregation would have been putting up Dets as to who was going to wiri out. Sally's mother, of course, was tickled to pieces to have her stay at home —the longer the better was her idea; but Caleb used to say, "Well, sometimes I'm afraid nobody's ever going to take her off my hands." He'd always laugh as though he'd cracked a pretty good joke when he said it, but, nevertheless, we all knew he meant every word of it. Personally, I never cared very much for Caleb. He hit me ci'ossgrain. Finally Emery Horton came home from college and began working in his father's factory. At first he was just another contestant in the tryout for Sally's favor, but gradually all the betters began to settle on him and the excitement kind of died down. Martha looked worried for fear she was going to lose Sally, and Caleb looked relieved to think it might be true. After several months of this lack of suspense, the "Chronicle" came out one Tuesday with a new item of interest. Mr. and Mrs. Caleb Carter announced the engagement of their daughter, Sally, to Mr. Emery Horton. Nobody ever bothered before in our town to put such news in the paper 'cause we'd all hear about it sooner or later anyway—generally sooner if Miss Peekins, the milliner, got hold of It first. She was just like one of those newfangled radios —a broadcaster of everything that came her way. Martha had become reconciled, and was busier than ever, planning for the wedding. It was to be a big affair with florists and caterers from the city, "The Voice That Breathed O'er Eden" sung, dress suits and everything. Nothing else was talked of in the whole town. Sally grew prettier and pinker than ever, but none of the plans were hers. They were her mother's, but Sally seemed to fall right in with them. Not so with Caleb. He didn't fall in at all. As Martha's face beamed happier with her planning, Caleb's grew greyer with worrying. It wasn't the thought of losing Sally, but the prospect of footing the bills for all the furbelows that tortured him. He was the richest man in the place, anyway, and Sally was his only daughter, but nothing meant anything to him except parting with money. "Never cost your folks so much to marry you off to me, Martha," he'd say. "Why's Sally got to be so expensive?" Martha never stopped to ar&ue with him. She'd learned better than that. She just kept right on planning and dickering, and Sally and Emery kept right on loving each other in spite of it all.

The wedding was set for the first Tuesday in June, and real engraved invitations were mailed round to everybody three weeks ahead. It must have been the sight of those invitations going into the post-office that upset Emery and consequently changed everybody's plans. Folks say that on that very day—a whole three weeks before the date set —Emery rushed up to Carter's in his little rattling auto like all possessed. Reckless and wild was how they described that ride. He dashed into the house where Sally was sitting, kind of listless, and took her right off her feet, both figuratively and physically. "Sally, Sally," he said, "I know I'm a coward and a quitter, but I can never go through with that show-off wedding. Let's elope." For a minute Sally looked kind of dazed, then light dawned upon her. "Oh, Emery," she cried, "do you hate it, too? I dread it so that I'm almost sick thinking about it. Wait till I get my hat." She flew upstairs, leaving Emery in the middle of the front room floor, so happy and relieved that he didn't even hear the hammock out on the porch creak when old Caleb climbed out of it and went down the walk.

In no time at all Sally was back and she and Emery were racing out to the auto. There they stopped short as though they'd been turned to stone, for in the back seat sat Caleb as settled as though he'd grown there. Right away, though, they saw that he was wearing a broad grin. "Climb in, children," he said; "you'll need a witness and I'm volunteering." So Sally and Emery and Caleb all drove over to the next town for a hasty ceremony. There Caleb did the only generous thing I ever heard of his doing. He paid the minister out of his own pocket—handed him a fivepound note and told him to keep the change. Naturally he figured it was worth something to free his mind of the expense of the church wedding. We townsmen, and especially poor Martha his wife felt awfully cheated out of a big affair, and it hasn't tended to make Caleb any more popular 'mongst the people.