Evidently Miss Princess did so this time. For, after an eternity of ten minutes, Young Doc, peering through the leaves of the summerhouse, saw Missy and her convoy coming across the lawn. Missy was walking along very solemnly, with only an occasional skip to betray the ebullition within her.
But it was on the tall girl that Young Doc's gaze was riveted, the slender graceful figure which, for all its loveliness, had something pathetically drooping about it—like a lily with a storm-bruised stem.
Something in Young Doc's throat clicked, and every last trace of resentment and wounded pride magically dissolved. He went straight to her in the doorway, and for a moment they stood there as if forgetful of everyone else in the world. Neither spoke, as is the way of those whose minds and hearts are full of inarticulate things. Then it was Doc who broke the silence.
“By the way, Missy,” he said in quite an ordinary tone, “there are some of those sugar pills in a bag out in the Ford. You'll find them tucked in a corner of the seat.”
Obediently Missy departed to get the treat. And when she returned, not too quickly, Miss Princess was laughing and crying both at once, and Young Doc was openly squeezing both her hands.
“Missy,” he hailed, “run in and ask your mother if you can go for a ride. Needn't mention Miss Princess is going along.”
O, it is a wonderful world! Swiftly back at the trysting place with the necessary permission, tucked into the Ford between the two happy lovers, “away they did race until soon lost to view.”
And exactly the same happy purpose as that in the Poem! For, half-way down the stretch of Boulevard, Miss Princess squeezed her hand and said:
“We're going over to Somerville, darling, to be married, and you're to be one of the witnesses.”
Missy's heart surged with delight—O, it was a wonderful world! Then a dart of remembrance came, and a big tear spilled out and ran down her cheek. Miss Princess, in the midst of a laugh, looked down and spied it.