“And there’d be flowers and music and lots of people to see us?”
“Heaps!” promised Bobby.
“Oh-h!” sighed Margaret ecstatically. “And then we’ll go traveling ‘way over to London and Paris and Egypt and see the Alps.”
“Huh?” The voice of the prospective young bridegroom sounded a little uncertain.
“We’ll go traveling to see things, you know,” reiterated Margaret. “There’s such a lot of things I want to see.”
“Oh, yes, we’ll go travelin’,” assured Bobby, promptly, wondering all the while if he could remember just where his mother’s geography was. He should have need of it after he got home that night. London, Paris, Egypt, and the Alps—it might be well to look up the way to get there, at all events.
“I think maybe now I’ll go back,” said Margaret, with sudden stiffness. “They might be looking for me. Good-bye.”
“Oh, I say, Maggie,” called Bobby, eagerly, “when folks is engaged they——” But only the swish of white skirts answered him, and there was nothing for him to do but disconsolately to let himself out the side door before any one came and found him.
“And I’m going to get married, too,” said Margaret to her mother half an hour later.
“You’re going to get married!”