"It would be pathetic, wouldn't it?"
"It would, Miss Thorne. I think we'd better not tell anybody until its
all safely over, and then we can have a little card printed to go
with the announcement, saying that if anybody is inclined to give us a
present, we'd rather have the money."
"You're a very practical person, Carl. One would think you had been
married several times."
"We'll be married as often as you like, dear. Judging by your respected
aunt, one ceremony isn't 'rightfully bindin', and I want it done often
enough to be sure that you can't get away from me."
As they entered the gate, Uncle James approached stealthily by a
roundabout way and beckoned to them. "Excuse me," he began, as they came
within speaking distance, "but has Mis' Ball give you furniture?"
"Yes," replied Ruth, in astonishment, "why?"
"There's clouds to starboard and she's repentin'. She's been admirin'
of it the hull mornin' in the attic. I was sot in the kitchen with
pertaters," he explained, "but the work is wearin' and a feller needs
fresh air."
"Thank you for the tip, Uncle," said Winfield, heartily.
The old man glowed with gratification. "We men understand each other,"
was plainly written on his expressive face, as he went noiselessly back
to the kitchen.
"You'd better go home, dear," suggested Ruth.
"Delicate hint," replied Winfield. "It would take a social strategist
to perceive your hidden meaning. Still, my finer sensibilities respond
instantly to your touch, and I will go. I flatter myself that I've never
had to be put out yet, when I've been calling on a girl. Some subtle
suggestion like yours has always been sufficient."
"Don't be cross, dear--let's see how soon you can get to the bottom of
the hill. You can come back at four o'clock."
He laughed and turned back to wave his hand at her. She wafted a kiss
from the tips of her fingers, which seemed momentarily to impede his
progress, but she motioned him away and ran into the house.
Aunt Jane was nowhere to be seen, so she went on into the kitchen to
help Uncle James with the potatoes. He had peeled almost a peck and the
thick parings lay in a heap on the floor. "My goodness'" she exclaimed.
"You'd better throw those out, Uncle, and I'll put the potatoes on to
boil."
He hastened out, with his arms full of peelings. "You're a real kind
woman, Niece Ruth," he said gratefully, when he came in. "You don't
favour your aunt none--I think you're more like me."
Mrs. Ball entered the kitchen with a cloud upon her brow, and in one of
those rare flashes of insight which are vouchsafed to plodding mortals,
a plan of action presented itself to Ruth. "Aunty," she said, before
Mrs. Ball had time to speak, "you know I'm going back to the city
to-morrow, and I'd like to send you and Uncle James a wedding
present--you've been so good to me. What shall it be?"