“O! I suspected you, young man! I suspected you and I am glad my suspicions have proven true. I believe it will be for the betterment of all concerned.”
And so it happened that Ruth’s engagement proved to be a relief in more ways than one. It was a relief to herself because she could talk freely to Ralph. She could let her enthusiasm have full rein on this subject without arousing his fears for her sanity of mind. Any nervous symptoms that she might betray in so doing would not cause him the undue fright and solicitude that they did her father and mother. He would know that they meant she must be doing something for the cause so near her heart. It was certainly a relief to her father and mother, who had begun to admit at least to themselves (especially after Ruth’s disaffection for Canada) that the annual going away from home was taking the form of a cruel necessity. Yes, and it continued to be a relief in spite of the little flurry into which they were thrown a few evenings later on when Ruth and Ralph appeared before them hand in hand with the Rev. Dr. Normander smiling benignly in the background. They knew what it meant, although there were no wedding garments and the wedding feast was not prepared. Ruth pleaded that there was important work to be done. Ralph declared that he was “following Doctor Muelenberg’s prescription in not allowing her to go forth single-handed.”
It was enough. The two hands were joined then and there and before another morning dawned the bride and bridegroom had planned their Independence Day campaign.
CHAPTER IX.
THE BRIDAL TRIP.
With a roll of statistics in hand and Ruth on his arm Ralph proceeded to the Golden Rule President’s office the next morning after the marriage.
As they entered the hall they heard some one singing in a deep, melodious voice.
“That’s the President,” whispered Ralph, crushing Ruth’s arm to his side. “It’s his morning matin. I think he composes it as he goes along. Sometimes he sings the Golden Rule mayor’s songs.”