Ralph heaved a long sigh and put his hands in his pockets.
"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "this is very discouraging; if I do not marry Dora, who is there that I can marry?"
"You goose," said his sister, "there is a girl here, under your very nose, ever so much nicer and more suitable for you than Dora. If you marry anybody, marry Cicely Drane. I have been thinking ever and ever so much about her and about you, and I made up my mind to speak to you of this as soon as I got home, so that you might have a chance to think about it before you should see Dora. Don't you remember what you used to tell me about the time when you were obliged to travel so much, and how, when you had a seat to yourself in a car, and a crowd of people were coming in, you used to make room for the first nice person you saw, because you knew you would have to have somebody sitting alongside of you, and you liked to choose for yourself? Now that is the way I feel about your getting married; if you marry Cicely Drane, I shall feel safe for the rest of my life."
"Miriam!" exclaimed Ralph, "you astonish me by the force of your statements. Wait here one moment," and he ran into the hall through which he had seen Cicely passing, and presently reappeared with her.
"Miss Drane," said he, "do you know that my sister thinks that I ought to marry you?"
In an instant Miriam had slipped from the table to the floor.
"Good gracious, Ralph!" she cried. "What do you mean?"
"I am merely stating your advice," he answered; "and now, Miss Drane, how does it strike you?"
"Well," said Cicely, demurely, "if your sister really thinks we should marry, I suppose—I suppose we ought to do it."
Miriam's eyes flashed from one to the other, then there were two girlish cries and a manly laugh, and in a moment Miriam and Cicely were in each other's arms, while Ralph's arms were around them both.