card
and read aloud, "Mr. and Mrs. Martin Cortright!" It was the card that
Richard had printed several days before and carried in strange company in
his warm, mussy little pocket ever since.

There was tense silence, and then a shout, as Martin took his wife's hand
that wore the wedding ring and laid it on mine; then he and father
fairly hugged each other, for father did not forget those long-ago days
of the strawberries that Martin could not gather.

When the excitement had subsided and dinner was over, Martha and Tim, to
whom the horse matter had been explained, came over to offer their
congratulations,--at least Martha did. Timothy merely grinned, and, to
the best of my belief, winked slyly at Martin, as much as to say, "We may
be long in knowing our minds, but when we men are ready, the weemen fair
tumble over us."

"Indeed, mum, but I wish you joy, and that he'll lead you as easy a life
as Tim'thy here does me, 'deed I do, and _no_ disrespeck intended," was
Martha's parting sentence; and then our wonder as to whether Martin was
going to town, or what, was cut short by his rising, looking at his
watch, and saying in the most matter-of-fact way to Lavinia: "Is your bag
ready? You know we leave in an hour."

"Does Lucy expect you?" I ventured to ask.

"Oh no, I shall not trouble her until the day appointed. We shall go to
the Manhattan, I think."

"How about your cousin Lydia?" asked father, who could not resist a
chance to tease.

"I forgot all about her!" exclaimed poor Lavinia, clasping her hands
tragically and looking really conscience-stricken. "And I," said Evan,
who had suddenly jumped up and rammed his hand into his side pocket,
"forgot to post your letter to her!"

* * * * *

_October_ 31. We have all been to New York to visit the runaway
Cortrights, as Evan calls them, now that they are settled, and it is
pleasant to see that so much belated happiness is possible. The fate of
Lavinia's house is definitely arranged; they will remain in "Greenwich
Village," in spite of all advice to move up in town. The defunct back
yard is being covered by an extension that will give Martin a fine
library, with a side window and a scrap of balcony, while the ailantus
tree is left, that bob-tailed Josephus may not be deprived of the feline
pleasures of the street or his original way of reaching it over the side
fence; and the flower garden that was, will be the foundation of a garden