d, and John's gay good-by to him
was the last word that I heard the bridegroom say. While we all stood
silently watching them as they drove away from the tall iron gate, the
mocking-bird on the staircase broke into melodious ripples of song.

XXIII: Poor Aunt Carola!

And now here goes my language back into the small-clothes that it wore
at the beginning of all, when I told you something of that colonial
society, the Selected Salic Scions, dear to the heart of my Aunt. It
were beyond my compass to approach this august body of men and women
with the respect that is its due, did I attire myself in that modern
garment which, in the phrase of the vulgar, is denoted pants.

You will scarce have forgot, I must suppose, the importance set by my
Aunt Carola upon the establishing of the Scions in new territories,
wherever such persons as were both qualified by their descent and in
themselves worthy, should be found; and you will remember that I
was bidden by her to look in South Carolina for members of the Bombo
connection which she was inclined to suspect existed in that state. My
neglect to make this inquiry for my kind Aunt now smote me sharply when
all seemed too late. John Mayrant had spoken of Kill-devil Bombo, the
very personage through whom lay Aunt Carola's claim to kingly lineage,
and I had let John Mayrant go away upon his honeymoon without ever
questioning him upon this subject. As I looked back upon the ease
with which I might have settled the matter, and forward to my return
empty-handed to the generous relative to whom I owed this agreeable
experience of travel, I felt guilty indeed. I wrote a letter to follow
John Mayrant into whatever retreat of bliss he had betaken himself to,
and I begged him earnestly to write me at his early convenience all that
he might know of Bombos in South Carolina. Consequently, I was able, on
reaching home, to meet Aunt Carola with some sort of countenance, and to
assure her that I expected presently to be furnished with authentic and
valuable particulars.

I now learned that the Selected Salic Scions had greatly increased in
numbers during my short absence. It appeared that the origin of the
whole movement had sprung from a needy but ingenious youth in some
manufacturing town of New England. This lad had a cousin, who had
amassed from nothing a noble fortune by inventing one day a speedy
and convenient fashion of opening beer bottles; and this cousin's
achievement had set h