"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.
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