“Oh, Harry, won’t you have me?” Annie asked, in pitiful entreaty.
“Why, how can I, my darling? I know you won’t break your engagement at the theater.”
“No; but I’ll go down to Kirby Park every night after the performance, and come back each evening in time to dress for the theater.”
“But won’t that tire you too much, Annie? It is more than an hour’s journey by train,” he said; but his eyes flashed at the proposal.
“Why,” said Annie, shyly, laughing a little, “I wanted to do so all the time. I thought of it yesterday; but then I decided to wait until you asked me; and, after all,” she added, with mock petulance, “I’ve had to ask myself.”
So that night, after the performance, Annie, escorted by George, who had made what excuses he could for not having revealed to her that he had heard of Harry’s residence at Kirby Park, drove to Waterloo, where she found William and her husband. The three went down to Kirby Park together by the last train, very tired, especially Annie, but very happy.
The next day she and William had a walk together, while Harry was holding a business interview in the library; but William found that it was not quite like the old time at the Grange.
“Hasn’t it improved Harry to have something to do?” said the young wife proudly.
“Oh, he’s well enough!” said William, without enthusiasm. “But there’s a sad falling off in you, Annie. You’re quite spoiled for a sister-in-law. Why, now, when anything amuses you, you look first at Harry!”