A blissful sigh, very like Mellicent’s own, passed Miss Flora’s lips.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she breathed in an awe-struck voice. “It don’t seem yet—that it’s really mine.”
“Well, ’tisn’t,” declared Mrs. Jane tartly, getting to her feet. “And I, for one, am going back to work—in the kitchen, where I belong. And—Well, if here ain’t Jim at last,” she broke off, as her younger brother-in-law appeared in the doorway.
“You’re too late, pa, you’re too late! It’s all done,” clamored Benny. “They’ve got everything all settled.”
The man in the doorway smiled.
“I knew they would have, Benny; and I haven’t been needed, I’m sure,—your mother’s here.”
Mrs. Harriet bridled, but did not look unpleased.
“But, say, Jim,” breathed Miss Flora, “ain’t it wonderful—ain’t it perfectly wonderful?”
“It is, indeed,—very wonderful,” replied Mr. Jim
A Babel of eager voices arose then, but Mr. Smith was not listening now. He was watching Mr. Jim’s face, and trying to fathom its expression.