“Ask Eileen,” said Jack, in a way that made Eileen blush.
“What, more secrets!” cried Paddy. “It seems to me you’d better just start at the beginning, and tell me everything that has been going on behind my back in this barefaced fashion.”
“Yes, only unfortunately we don’t quite know where the beginning is, do we, Eileen?”
“It’s too bad, Paddy, to tease you so,” put in Eileen quickly. “The real truth is that last summer, when you didn’t happen to be at home to see, letters from the Argentine began to come much oftener, and were not handed round for public perusal as usual. And then—You go on Jack,” smiling at him.
“And then,” said Jack readily enough, “some one wanted desperately to go along with the letters, and for some time could not find a way. At last, some one wrote and asked if he might come if he could find ways and means, and all unbeknown to every one but themselves, letter-writer and recipient arranged a little plan, if they could only manage to bring it off. While still in doubt as to ways and means, distant relative most obligingly dies, and then it is hey presto! and catch the next boat.”
Paddy crossed the fireside circle in a flash, and flung herself upon Eileen.
“Oh, Eily, Eily,” she cried, “you are engaged?—are you really engaged to Jack?”
“Yes, Paddy,” and her voice and eyes spoke all she could not say.
“Oh, I’m so glad, I’m so glad, I feel as if I must just hug you both! and the aunties too, and every one. What a lovely Christmas present, a new brother.”
“But that isn’t really all,” cried Jack. “We’re going to live at The Ghan House. Only think of it! and you and your mother are to have the west wing all to yourselves, and live there with us just as long as ever you will.”