“Friends, madam!” exclaimed Ran, the more taken by surprise that he had been just thinking of them. It seemed to him that the lady must have read his thoughts.
“Yes, those old friends of yours who came on with Judy and the Moseleys and are boarding somewhere down in the city while waiting for their steamer.”
“Oh! yes, madam! You mean Samson Longman and Andrew Quin? They are with Michael at Markiss’ on Water Street. I do not know the number.”
“That is not necessary. I am sending them invitations to the wedding and the breakfast; for though, of course, such a hasty affair as this is will not admit of much ceremony and elaboration, yet they must be present. There will be the Moseleys, the Stuarts, ourselves and your friends from Markiss’.”
“I should tell you beforehand that those friends of mine come from a mining camp, and though good and true as men can be, they are rough and plain.”
“Well, my dear boy, I have told you who is coming, and so you may know that these friends will meet no one in our house who will be so silly as to look down upon them for being rough and plain. Really, Ran, dear, it ought not to be necessary for me to say this,” concluded the lady.
For all answer, Randolph Hay went to her side, raised her hand and pressed it to his lips with reverential tenderness.
Judy looked up in her face with eyes full of tears and murmured:
“The Lord in heaven bless you, sweet and lovely lady!”
Mrs. Walling smiled deprecatingly at this effusiveness and patted Judy gently on the head. Then she turned to her writing-desk and wrote her informal notes. These were the only invitations the lady had written. The few others to the members of the two families more immediately concerned had been verbal ones.