“He doesn’t say anything about it. His mother is failing rapidly. He gave me some directions about the place, and told me some home news; he sent his respects to all. Oh, yes,” Carter’s eyes scanned the sheet, “he wants to know if you are married yet.”
“What did you tell him?” Agnes asked eagerly.
Carter laughed. “I haven’t told him anything yet. You didn’t suppose I’d write within twenty-four hours, did you?”
Agnes colored up. “Oh, no, of course not. I didn’t think.”
“But I know what I shall tell him,” said Carter, teasingly.
“What?”
“That you’re going to be.”
“Oh, you must not. Don’t you dare to, Carter Ritchie.—What is it, Margret?”
“Mother wants you a moment,” answered the little girl.
“Then you’ll have to stay out here and talk to me, Margret,” said Carter; “I’m not going to be left alone.”