On this especial night the two men sat beside the fire, and also beside some of the last oysters that would ever be served up with the spicy sauce of this same good comradeship. As befitted so memorable an occasion, the oysters were big fellows and were frying gloriously.
Randolph, who was in great good spirits, leaned over and lifted them carefully with a fork he held in hand.
“Here we are!” he exclaimed. “Things are done brown now!”
Then the two men looked up at each other and burst out laughing.
There was one important ceremony which Randolph felt must precede the marriage service, and that was the introduction of his bosom friend to his fiancée.
“I've been puzzling my brains to think how I can bring this about,” he said to Constance one day. “I've already hinted at it to Steve, but he don't take. I know he wants to meet you, but he's such a retiring fellow—not really bashful, but like a clam in his shell.”
“Don't distress yourself, I beg of you,” said Constance with a mischievous smile. “Mr. Loveland and I have already met and are now the best of friends.”
Randolph stared at her in open-mouthed amazement.
“Where?” he managed to ask.
“Right here in this parlor. I must tell you about it—it was most beautiful. His card took me by surprise, but I supposed you had brought him. When I came downstairs there he was, looking altogether different from your descriptions.”