This was a complication that poor Aunt Margaret had never reckoned on.
“Yes, we must find out,” she said; “we must ask Mr. John Temple; really it is very awkward.”
But when Thursday arrived, and the sisters saw the bride’s sweet, happy face, they forgot at first to make any inquiries on the subject. May was looking quite charming; her dress, her beauty, even her manner was improved. She was indeed a lovely young woman that the kindly sisters took in their thin arms, and pressed their faded lips against her rosy ones. As for John Temple, he also looked exceedingly well, and his gray eyes rested again and again on the beautiful face of his fair bride with unmistakable affection.
He remained to dinner at Pembridge Terrace, but explained how he was obliged to start on his journey to Woodlea Hall almost immediately afterward. May knew this, but her face saddened a little when John repeated it, and her lips quivered.
“My uncle would never forgive me if I disappointed him,” said John, and then the little party began talking of other things.
“And how is Mr. Webster?” presently asked May. “Has he returned from abroad yet?”
This question at once reminded the sisters of their nephew’s wish to know by what name he should address May, and they looked at each other significantly; and then Miss Webster—the stronger minded of the two—after a little nervous hesitation spoke.
“Yes, he has returned, and is very well,” she said; “and—oh! my dear Mrs. John Temple, there is something I wish to ask you.”
“What is that?” answered May, smiling.