"You would think every day Sunday if you had had as good a time as I
have for six weeks."
"The doctor does say you're doing beautifully. I asked him yesterday
how soon you would be well and he said you never had been so well since
he knew you. But what is to-morrow?"
"Thanksgiving."
"Thanksgiving, indeed! Yes, every day is Thanksgiving for us. But
it's not especially that."
"Christmas."
"Nonsense! To-morrow is the second anniversary of our engagement."
"My Lord, Gertrude, have we been engaged two years? Why, at that rate
I can't possibly marry you till I'm forty-four."
"It isn't two years, it's two months. And to-night they have their
memorial services for poor Paddy McGraw. And, do you know, your friend
Mr. Foley has our engine now? Yes; he came up the other day to ask
about you, but in reality to tell me he had been promoted. I think he
ought to have been, after I spoke myself to Mr. Archibald about it.
But what touched me was, the poor fellow asked if I wouldn't see about
getting some flowers for the memorial at the engineer's lodge
to-night--and he didn't want his wife to know anything about it,
because she would scold him for spending his money--see what you are
coming to! So I suggested he should let me provide his flowers and
ours together, and when I tried to find out what he wanted, he asked if
a throttle made of flowers would be all right."
"Your heart would not let you say no?"
"I told him it would be lovely, and to leave it all to me."
She brought forward the box she was opening. "See how they have laid
this throttle-bar of violets across these Galax leaves--and latched it
with a rose. Here, Solomon," she exiled the boy from an adjoining
room, "take this very carefully. No. There isn't any card. Oh," she
exclaimed, as he left, and she clasped her lifted hands, "I am glad, I
am glad we are leaving these mountains. Do you know papa is to be here
to-morrow? And that your speech must be ready? He isn't going to give
his consent without being asked."
"I suppose not," said Glover, dejectedly.
"What are you going to say?"
"I shall say that I consider him worthy of my confidence and esteem."
"I think you would make more headway, dearest, if you should tell him
you considered yourself worthy of his confidence and esteem."
"But, hang it, I don't."
"Well, couldn't you, for once, fib a little? Oh, Ab; I'll tell you
what I wish you could do."
"Pray what?"
"Talk a little business to him. I feel sure, if you could only talk
business awhile, papa would be all right."
"Business! If it's only a question of talking business, the thing's as
good as done. I can't talk anything but business."