V
But Mrs. Nathaniel Forge, née Theddon, never knew how truly she spoke, nor significantly, when she declared that old Caleb was to be one of her dearest friends because he had been Nathan’s. And for a reason entirely apart from her husband.
After her supper to her bridesmaids, Madelaine slipped upstairs to change into her traveling suit. Her mother had been unpardonably missing for over an hour. Having occasion to enter the upper library, Madelaine drew back aghast.
Her mother was in there alone with old Caleb. Her mother was sobbing. But her mother was merely exercising sweet woman’s prerogative to weep gloriously and copiously, in proof that she was happy, happy, happy.
Madelaine turned blank of face from what she had seen. She met Nathan on the stairs. She caught her husband and spoke in swift and stupefied whispers.
Nathan grinned. Yes, he did!
“Oh, well, Girl-o’-Mine,” he admonished. “We needn’t be selfish and demand a monopoly of all the happiness that’s going around to-day. The springtime of life is all fine and wonderful. But we’ve got to admit there’s many a love flower that blossoms in Indian Summer. And it’s usually all the more fragrant and exquisite on that account. Where’s the telephone?”