'After all,' sagaciously observed Lance, 'I'm not so much surprised. I think I've made a pretty good Cupid.'
'You believe it, then?' cried Robina.
'Bless you,' affirmed Willie, 'we've been roasting Jack about it for the last fortnight—only the pater was so awfully afraid of your sister's hearing it, that he said any one who breathed the ghost of a joke near her should be shipped off to old Aunt Grace that instant.'
'Well, they have my consent and blessing,' said Lance.
'Amen,' responded his friend.
'Ho!' continued Lance, 'that's the meaning of old W. W. being so jolly. I wondered whether it was only that I thought so because I had nothing to do but to look at her.'
'Oh, you know she is a real true beauty and no mistake,' said Bill, beginning to feel a personal pride in her; 'there's Miles raving about her, and every one runs about saying, "Have you seen little Underwood's handsome sister?" Half the folks that came to ask after you did it to get a look at her; and if she stayed a week longer, she might have a dozen offers, only luckily Jack cut in first.'
'Well, I'm glad she is even with Alda,' was Lance's next sentiment.
'That's the one that is booked for the Red Indian you converted, ain't it?' asked Bill. 'Fact, Robina; we heard a new fellow was coming who had converted a Cherokee, and that the Bishop had christened him in his war paint and feathers. Mrs. Shapcote sent out invitations to a missionary tea in honour of him.'
'What, of the Cherokee?'