“I’m goin’ to surprise you,” said Betsy, slowly, “more’n you ever was surprised in your life, Hiram.”
“How so? Goin’ to marry me this evenin’?”
“I found Rosalie Vincent out in Yellowstone Park.”
“Pshaw! Ye don’t say so! By the way, Betsy, I was glad o’ those sightly pictures you sent me. Course I s’pose they’re all lies—just advertisin’—”
“No, indeed!” exclaimed Betsy eagerly. “You never saw anything so beautiful. I—”
“Yes,” interrupted Hiram, “I’ve got ’em pinned up on the wall, and, come October, you’ll tell me all about it evenin’s. I cal’late what with Europe and all the globe-trottin’ you’ve done lately, I’m goin’ to have a wife that’ll beat that She-Herod-Sady that told the Arabian Nights, all holler; and what’s more, you won’t ever be afraid ye’ll get yer head cut off; so ye’ll be ahead of her, every way.”
“Hiram,” said Betsy severely, “what do you think o’ my findin’ Rosalie ’way out there?”
“I think ’twas part of her good luck.”
“What good luck has the child ever had?”