"Both, I think; glad for your sake, though."
"I'll go and live in the five-roomed cottage with you, if you like, and we'll forget all about it."
"I believe you'd do it"—Brockway glanced up, and, seeing the red signal still displayed, blessed the tardy operator who was doubtless bungling the train-order—"but I shan't insist." Then with a touch of graver earnestness: "We are properly engaged now, aren't we?"
"I should hope so"—shyly.
He took a ring from his pocket and slipped it over the finger of the captive hand.
"It isn't every one who goes prepared," he said, with quiet humor; "it was a gift from a train-load of Grand Army people I took across last year; and I've carried it in my pocket ever since because I didn't think I had any right to wear diamonds. Will you wear it for me?"
"Always."
"Will you wear it to-morrow—before all the others? I'm coming in to breakfast, you know. Your father asked me."
"I said always."
Conductor Graffo, coming out of the telegraph office with a scrap of tissue paper in his hand: "All abo-o-ard!"