Billy laughed softly.
“Five days, indeed, sir! I wonder if you think I can get ready to be married in five days.”
“Don't want you to get ready,” retorted Bertram, promptly. “I saw Marie get ready, and I had all I wanted of it. If you really must have all those miles of tablecloths and napkins and doilies and lace rufflings we'll do it afterwards,—not before.”
“But—”
“Besides, I need you to take care of me,” cut in Bertram, craftily.
“Bertram, do you—really?”
The tender glow on Billy's face told its own story, and Bertram's eager eyes were not slow to read it.
“Sweetheart, see here, dear,” he cried softly, tightening his good left arm. And forthwith he began to tell her how much he did, indeed, need her.
“Billy, my dear!” It was Aunt Hannah's plaintive voice at the doorway, a little later. “We must go home; and William is here, too, and wants to see you.”
Billy rose at once as Aunt Hannah entered the room.