“What was that you said about Jane?” demanded Oliver.
“Jane? Oh, yes; about her getting married? She absolutely refuses to tell me who she is going to marry. I fancy I can make a fairly good guess, however.”
“So can I,” cried Mrs. Sammy. “Oh, you Jane!”
Oliver swallowed hard. “How about it, Jane? Come on! ’Fess up. You’re among friends.”
Jane smiled mischievously. “I promise, Oliver, to tell you first of all. I sha’n’t keep you in suspense any longer than I can help.”
“Before you tell your own mother,” cried Josephine.
“Much as I love you, Mother dear, I feel that I must tell Oliver first. He is my oldest and best friend.”
“I have just been thinking, Josephine,” began Mr. Sage, guiltily and irrelevantly, “that I quite forgot to take Henry the Eighth out for his walk this evening. And even worse, I fear I left him hanging by his lead from the top peg of the hatrack.”
“I really shouldn’t mind, my dear, if he were to expire before we get home,” said she. “He is a traitor. Would you believe it, Oliver, the little beast has taken such a fancy to your Uncle Herbert that he has completely turned against me. Snaps at me, growls at me, barks at me every time I try to pat him. Hanging is too good for him.”
“Speaking of hanging,” said Sammy, “old Joe Sikes says he’s got a perfect alibi for you, Ollie, in connection with that murder up in Grand Rapids. I mean the chap who was found in a hotel room last night with his throat cut. Joe says he can prove by thirty reputable witnesses that you were not within four hundred miles of Grand Rapids last night.”