“You see, momsy,” said Eva, addressing her mother, “Guy has sold a story. He got a thousand dollars for it—a thousand!”
“Oh, not a thousand!” expostulated Guy.
“Well, it was nearly a thousand—if it had been three hundred dollars more it would have been—and so now that our future is assured we are going to be married. I hadn’t intended to mention it until Guy had talked with popsy, but this will be very much nicer, and easier for Guy.”
Guy looked up appealingly at the colonel.
“You see, sir, I was summing to key you—I mean I was——”
“You see what it is going to mean to have an author in the family,” said Custer. “He’s going to talk away above our heads. We won’t know what he’s talking about half the time. I don’t know. Do you, Guy?”
“For pity’s sake, Custer, leave the boy alone!” laughed Mrs. Pennington. “You’re enough to rattle a stone image. And now, Guy, you know you don’t have to feel embarrassed. We have all grown accustomed to the idea that you and Eva would marry, so it is no surprise. It makes us very happy.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pennington,” said the boy. “It wasn’t that it was hard to tell you. It was the way Eva wanted me to do it—like a book. I was supposed to come and ask the colonel for her hand in a very formal manner, and it made me feel foolish, the more I thought of it—and I have been thinking about it all day. So, you see, when Eva blurted it out, I thought of my silly speech and I——”
“It wasn’t a silly speech,” interrupted Eva. “It was simplimetic gorgeristic. You thought so yourself when you made Bruce Bellinghame ask Hortense’s father for her. ‘Mr. Le Claire,’ he said, squaring his manly shoulders, ‘it is with emotions of deepest solemnity and a full realization of my unworthiness that I approach you upon this beautiful day in May——’”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Eva, please!” begged Guy.