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to love that Eden house. Why don't you come down and see it, Joyce?" "Oh, I'll come some day--I hope," said Joyce lightly. "I think I'd rather not see it until it is finished." "Willard is a nice boy," said Miss Sally suddenly. "I don't think I ever did him justice before. The finer qualities of his character come out in these simple, homely little doings and tasks. He is certainly very thoughtful and kind. Oh, I suppose he'll make a good husband, as husbands go. But he doesn't know the first thing about managing. If his wife isn't a good manager, I don't know what they'll do. And perhaps she won't like the way we've done up Eden. Willard says she will, of course, because he thinks her perfection. But she may have dreadful taste and want the lace curtains and that nightmare of a pink rug Willard admired, and I dare say she'd rather have a new flaunting set of china with rosebuds on it than that dear old dull blue I picked up for a mere song down at the Aldenbury auction. I stood in the rain for two mortal hours to make sure of it, and it was really worth all that Willard has spent on the dining room put together. It will break my heart if she sets to work altering Eden. It's simply perfect as it is--though I suppose I shouldn't say it." * * * * * In another week Eden was finished. Miss Sally stood in the tiny hall and looked about her. "Well, it is done," she said with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I have enjoyed fixing it up tremendously, and now I feel that my occupation is gone. I hope you are satisfied, Willard." "Satisfied is too mild a word, Miss Sally. I am delighted. I knew you could accomplish wonders, but I never hoped for _this_. Eden is a dream--the dearest, quaintest, sweetest little home that ever waited for a bride. When I bring her here--oh, Miss Sally, do you know what that thought means to me?" Miss Sally looked curiously at the young man. His face was flushed and his voice trembled a little. There was a far-away shining look in his eyes as if he saw a vision. "I hope you and she will be happy," said Miss Sally slowly. "When will she be coming, Willard?" The flush went out of Willard's face, leaving it pale and determined. "That is for her--and you--to say," he answered steadily. "Me!" exclaimed Miss Sally. "What have I to do with it?" "A great deal--for unless you consent she will never come here at all." "Willard Stanley," said Miss Sally, with omin
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