He smiled, but there was a soft mistiness in his eyes.
"I can never thank you," he said unsteadily.
"I must trust someone, you see. Mr. Northfield is too old, Mr. Morris has his hands full; indeed, I can think of no one better. I have some of the Wardour willfulness, and take my own way about things. I do not often make mistakes. This is no sudden notion of mine."
"There is one thing, madam, I must explain before we go farther. I am—I have"—he paused and flushed in embarrassment—"there is an understanding between myself and Miss Polly Wharton, not an engagement, for as yet I have had no certainty to offer. But we care very much for each other."
Madam Wetherill gave a quick nod or two and there was a smile in her bright eyes.
"Polly will make a good wife. Thou couldst hardly have chosen better. I would speak to Mr. Wharton and have the matter settled now. If he had not been of a consenting mind, thou wouldst hardly have found a welcome entrance for so long in his home."
"Madam—I never dreamed of being so happy."
"Oh, no doubt thou wilt be much happier on thy wedding day," and she laughed with a bright sparkle of amusement. "I am fond of young people, though they do many foolish things."
"But my sister?" he said suddenly. "We have forgotten about her. All these years of thy kind care——"
"Well—what of her? I loved her mother. I never had a child of my own, though a hen rarely runs after another hen's chicks. The little moppet stole into my heart, and by just raising her eyes inveigled me into fighting for her. Miss Primrose Henry has all the fortune it is good for a girl to have, and she is a gay butterfly to go dancing about for the next few years. Indeed, I believe she has quite made up her mind to stay single, to have many admirers, but no husband. It may not be a good plan, but there have been some famous old maids,—Queen Elizabeth, for instance,—while poor Marie Stuart began with husbands early and lost her head. We can dismiss Miss Primrose to her pleasures."