“Well,” said John, rising, “talk it over with Miss Eliza. I will send her to you, and go and talk to May.”
“That will be best,” answered Miss Webster, relieved, and a few moments later Miss Eliza entered the room, and Miss Webster in an awe-struck whisper told her news.
“It would never do; you see it would never do,” she concluded.
“It would never do,” echoed Aunt Eliza, dolefully, shaking her head and sighing dismally.
“It would be unjust—to Ralph,” said Miss Webster.
“Terribly unjust,” repeated Aunt Eliza, heaving another sigh.
“Then we must agree to decline. I am sure she is a sweet girl, and if there was anything I could do for her I would do it, and you, too, Eliza, but we must consider—others.”
“Yes, dear,” and after this the sisters kissed each other, and then went together nervously toward the drawing-room. But when they entered the room nothing was said of their consultation. John Temple was sitting by May on a couch, looking perfectly content, and May was smiling and looking perfectly happy. John rose with a pleasant smile as the two trembling old ladies appeared.
“Ah, Miss Webster, and Miss Eliza,” he said, “come and help May here to decide a most knotty question. Where will you sit? Now, Miss Webster, let us have your opinion first. What should May wear to be married in?”
“White, I should think,” answered Miss Webster, somewhat feebly.