ed on. He had had a long talk with Weston,
perhaps, and had stopped downstairs for a minute with Mary. She had
told him all. How astounded the boy must be! Why, it would take her a
half hour at least to convince him that she spoke the truth when she
told him she was to marry his wreck of a brother; then when he believed
it, another half hour would hardly be enough for him to welcome her
into the family of Hope, and to talk over the wonderful fortunes of its
sons. Doubtless he had felt it incumbent on himself to sing my
praises, for he had always been blind to my faults. In this
possibility of his tarrying to display my virtues there was some
compensation for my sitting alone, with old Captain and young Colonel,
both sleeping, and only my pipe for company. Of course, I should
really be there with Tim, but Nanny Pulsifer and Mrs. Spiker had
decreed otherwise. Who knows how great may be my reward for bringing
them safely past the graveyard!

The third pipe snuffled out. I opened the door and listened. Tim's
minutes are long, for the last light in the village is out now. I went
to the gate and stood there till I caught the sound of foot-falls.
Then I whistled softly. There was no reply, but in a moment Perry
Thomas stepped into the light of our window.

"Good-evening," he said cheerfully. "It's rather chilly to be
swinging on the gate."

"I was waiting for Tim," I answered.

Perry gave a little dry cackle. "Let's go in," he said. "It's too
cold out here to discuss these great events."

I did not know what he meant, neither did I much care, for Perry always
treated the most trivial affairs in the most elegant language he knew.
But now that he stood there with his back to the fire, warming his
hands, he made himself more clear.

"Well, Mark," he said, "I congratulate you most heartily."

I divined his meaning. It did not seem odd that he had learned my
secret, for I was lost in admiration of his having once weighed an
event at its proper value. So I thanked him and returned to my chair
and my pipe.

"Of course it hurts me a bit here," said he, laying his hand on his
watch-pocket. "I had hopes at one time myself, but I fear I depended
too much on music and elocution. Do you know I'm beginnin' to think
that a man shouldn't depend so much on art with weemen. I notice them
gets along best who doesn't keep their arms entirely occupied with
gestures and workin' the fiddle."

[Illustration: "Of cours