took his wife into his
confidence and told her of the love-affair which was culminating in such
a satisfactory way to him as well as to John. "You see," he said, "when
it first flared up between them, I was dead afraid that the boy might
settle up there, or move away, and I'd lose him as a future partner, and
a good one at that, but I clinched all that to-day." Cavanaugh laughed
slyly as he told of the Carrol cottage and how pleased John had been
with it. The old man talked at considerable length, but suddenly noticed
that his wife, seated in the lamplight across the table, had not uttered
a word, which struck him as being truly remarkable. Of all things in the
dull routine of her life, engagements and weddings of young persons
hitherto had interested her most.

"Well, well," the contractor said, suddenly. "What do you think of it?
You don't, somehow, look glad. I always thought you liked John, and all
this time I've been thinking how tickled you'd be to hear about him and
his girl."

Mrs. Cavanaugh blinked. Her face was very grave, her fat chin set firm
in accordance with her resolute jaws.

"Why didn't you write me about it, along with all the rest of the stuff
you had to say?" she asked, in a tone of actual accusation. "This is the
first intimation to me of it."

"Well, for one thing I didn't feel at liberty to do it." Cavanaugh
floundered in his slow surprise. "The two were just sorter getting under
headway, as you might say, and nothing had been decided on positively. I
don't think the final word has been said yet, either, and--"

"Oh, then there is still time-- I mean--" But Mrs. Cavanaugh, avoiding
her husband's blank stare, suddenly broke off what she was saying and
sat gazing fixedly into her coffee-cup.

"Oh, there will be no slip between the lip and the dipper in this case,
if that's what is bothering you," the contractor said. "They will get
married now, for they are both simply crazy about each other."

"Listen to me, Sam Cavanaugh," Mrs. Cavanaugh threw out quickly. "I want
to get down to the rock bottom of this thing without any ifs and ands. I
want to know one thing. It may make you mad, because you said once that
I was meddling in John's business, but I want to know if--if them folks
up there--the girl's daddy and mammy, and the girl herself--I want to
know if they know about--about John's mother and Jane Holder,
and--and--"

"Make me mad?" Cavanaugh actually got up, drew his chair out, and
gr