Rosalie held out her hand. "I congratulate you with all my heart. You are not good enough for her, but if she is satisfied, I should worry. On behalf of the manse, I welcome you."
"Thanks. Now it is all settled. I feel better." And they laughed together gaily.
"What in the world are you two doing, whispering back there in the corner?" asked Doris curiously. "Mercy, are you holding hands?"
"We are sealing a solemn pact," he answered blithely. "Rosalie has a way of making me very happy sometimes."
Doris caught her breath suddenly, and crushed her fingers against her lips. A dark shadow came into her eyes, and she looked searchingly into Rosalie's laughing face. Then she crossed the room and stood by her father, her fingers gripping his sleeve, and very soon she slipped away up the stairs and went to bed. When Rosalie came to find her, she said she was tired and nervous— Wouldn't Rosalie say good night for her, and tell him how kind he had been?
When Rosalie repeated the message to Mr. MacCammon he looked perturbed.
"Isn't she coming down at all?"
"Seems not. But she is nervous, really, and worried about father—and your kindness has upset her."
"I'll bet she is thinking of that bishop," he said grimly. "You run up-stairs and talk about me, will you? Tell her how nice I am, and how handsome, and what a good husband I will make—put it on pretty thick, you know how it is done. A lovely diamond ring for your pains, young lady, if you play it right. There's a nice little girl."