“A day or two ago. Ain’t she stepping some?”
“You bet she is, Freddie. She’s a sly little fox. She never told me a word. I’m surprised that Sadie would tell you first.”
“Well you see, Gert, she owed me that little courtesy, as I’m the guy that asked her to get married.”
“Fred Stalton!” exclaimed Mrs. Manton.
“Hurrah!” exclaimed Freda. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks, Miss MacDowell. I’ll give you an invite to the wedding ceremony. We’re going to pull it off about New Year’s in swell style. Down at Belmont Tabernacle. Got the preacher engaged and everything. You’ve all got to come. Cheer up, Gert, I know what’s troubling you. We’re not going to keep house. We’re going to live right on at seventy-three. There’s luck in the number.”
“Well, Freddie, I’m surprised at you,” she admitted. “To think of a shrewd chap like yourself getting married.”
“Isn’t marriage a good thing, Gertrude?” he laughed.
“Yes. A good thing to be through with! May the ashes of my deceased husband lie perfectly peaceful as I talk! But this astonishes me considerably.”
Mrs. Manton carried her dishes out to the kitchen and returned for a second load, in her customary suave manner, as if, in sooth, nothing however astonishing, could break in upon the even tenor of her life.