She sat down on his knee, and slipped a kindly arm round his neck. "I hope you won't be dead, Noel," she said, in the careful tone of one not wishing to be taken too seriously.
The best man smiled all over his merry face. "I shall do my best to survive for your sake," he said.
She nodded thoughtfully. "But why aren't you goin' to get married sooner?"
He surveyed her with his head on one side. "My little sweetheart is only pocket size at present," he said. "I'm waiting for her to grow up."
"Oh! Is she little like me?" asked the chief bridesmaid, looking slightly disappointed.
"She's just like you, sweetheart," said Noel, with cheery assurance. "She has eyes of wedgewood blue, and hair of golden down, a mouth like a rose, and the jolliest little turn-up nose in the world. And she's going to be six next birthday."
This classic description was an instant revelation to the chief bridesmaid. She blushed very sweetly, with pleasure unfeigned in which shyness had no part. "Oh, Noel!" she breathed, in rapturous anticipation. "But why must we wait till we're growed up?"
"We!" said Noel, who was twenty-two and a crack shot in the Regiment.
She kissed him propitiatingly. "I mean—dear Noel—. why can't we go and get married now? I'm sure Mummy wouldn't mind."
"H'm! I wonder!" said Noel.