"And there's Chris, if Ben won't have me," I said, with a sense of amusement at being handed down. "And you understand—Homer asked me to please his mother. Of course he likes me, but that isn't marrying love."
"Yes, you are going to be the dearest little sister to us. Oh, I do wonder if Mrs. Hayne will truly like me?"
"Yes, she will when she comes to know you well. She has hoped so that Dan would marry, only she didn't want Polly Morrison."
"And now they're at it again. This time everybody thinks it will make a match. I don't like Dan. He's the great Mogul, and he flirts awfully. I wouldn't be his wife for half Chicago. But Homer is so sweet and patient and tender. He has some of your ways," smiling generously, "and he will build his house at once. Oh, won't it be just splendid! I shall go to work immediately. What a delight it must be to make up one's trousseau. I have yards and yards of lace knit, and fringe made. I shall not sell any more. Oh, Ruth," studying me intently, "are you quite sure you are happy over it? For you could have taken him—and I don't see how you escaped loving him."
"Then you would have been unhappy. Now we are both happy and content."
I came to know afterward that there were women who fancied you were dying for their particular lover, and it vexed me, and men who thought your world could easily have been bounded by them.
I made Sophie stay to supper. Homer was not coming that evening. He wanted to explain to his parents and make some arrangements. Father wished her all good fortune and teased her a little, admitting that she would have one of the best of husbands.
I hesitated to make my weekly visit to Mrs. Hayne, and the day I set it stormed. But I walked over with Ben and Chris after Sunday School.
"You naughty girl," Mrs. Hayne began. "I don't know when I can forgive you. I suppose you were ashamed."
"What did she do?" asked Chris, eager eyed.