Ethel saw it was no use to plead; that Minerva and James were so selfish that they had rather marry and stay up than postpone their marriage the best part of a year in order to enable her to keep a good cook. She left the kitchen and came to me with the news which I had already heard, as I told her.
The rest of the party condoled with her.
“Isn’t it disheartening,” said she, sinking into a big arm chair disconsolately.
A brilliant thought struck me as I looked at my wife.
“I have a solution of the whole business.” I stepped to the door. “James, stop that hammering a minute.”
James, who had resumed his task of nailing fast the sashes, stopped.
I returned again to Ethel.
“I think that I can work on that novel that Scribman wants just as well here as in the city. What do you say to our staying up here all winter so as to keep Minerva?”
“Oh, you treasure of an idea-haver,” said Ethel, rushing at me and kissing me right before everybody.
“But would James let her work?” said Cherry.