THIS beginning-part is not made out of anybody\'s head, you know. It\'s
real. You must believe this beginning-part more than what comes after,
else you won\'t understand how what comes after came to be written. You
must believe it all; but you must believe this most, please. I am the
editor of it. Bob Redforth (he\'s my cousin, and shaking the table on
purpose) wanted to be the editor of it; but I said he shouldn\'t because he
couldn\'t. HE has no idea of being an editor.
Nettie Ashford is my bride. We were married in the right-hand closet
in the corner of the dancing-school, where first we met, with a ring (a
green one) from Wilkingwater\'s toy-shop. I owed for it out of my
pocket-money. When the rapturous ceremony was over, we all four went
up the lane and let off a cannon (brought loaded in Bob Redforth\'s
waistcoat-pocket) to announce our nuptials. It flew right up when it went
off, and turned over. Next day, Lieut.- Col. Robin Redforth was united,
with similar ceremonies, to Alice Rainbird. This time the cannon burst
with a most terrific explosion, and made a puppy bark.