"I have so many things to say, I scarcely know where to begin!"
"Begin with what was in your mind when you wrote that note."
May sat down close to him, and began in a low voice, little above a whisper, and with some confusion, to narrate the story of Mr. Bragg's wooing, and its effect on her aunt and uncle. As he listened, Owen's face expressed the most unbounded amazement.
"Oh, it can't be!" he exclaimed. "It's impossible! There must be some mistake!"
May laughed, though the tears were in her eyes. "You are not very civil," she said. "Nobody else seemed to think it impossible."
"But old Bragg!" repeated Owen incredulously.
"Perhaps he was temporarily insane, but I really think he meant it," answered May, blushing so bewitchingly, that Owen could not resist the temptation to kiss the glowing cheek so close to his lips.
At this point, Harold called out in a resolute tone, "You mustn't kiss May."
The lovers started. They had forgotten the children—had forgotten everything in the world except each other. But the two little boys had followed May into the room, and had been witnessing the interview in dumb astonishment. It was characteristic that they now held each other by the hand, as though seeking support from union, in the presence of this stranger, who might, they instinctively felt, turn out to be a common enemy.
"Halloa!" said Owen. "Here's another rival. Their name seems to be Legion."