“Good-ness me!” drawled Beth. “Hear the boy! When are you going to get married, Larry Haven? How soon?”
“Just as soon as I find the right girl,” he returned, laughing at her.
“Do you expect her to starve to death in your law offices, too?” she demanded, quizzically.
The question brought him to a stop. He gazed down at her for a moment. “Got me there, Elizabeth—got me there,” he admitted. “I didn’t think of that. She will have to be supported—the future Mrs. Haven—won’t she?”
“And a cook hired for her, too,” Beth responded wickedly. “By the time you are able to do that, Larry Haven, on your income as an attorney, I shall be principal of a young ladies’ seminary at five thousand a year.”
He laughed delightedly. She was just as bright as he remembered her to have been when she was little.
He handed her over to Major Whipple after this dance. The major, although a bachelor of over fifty, still possessed a discriminating eye for beauty. And he could dance well, too. Beth was enjoying herself. Larry did not let her sit idle a single dance. And the boys, young men, middle-aged men, were all ready to be partners with her.
Larry said to his mother: “What did I tell you, Mater? Beth is the belle of the evening.”
“You will turn that child’s head, Larry. I warn you,” his mother said seriously.
“Well! she talks a whole lot more sensibly than most of the young women I have talked with this evening,” he declared.