"Of course, Father," agreed Charles decidedly. "Go quickly and tell Mother all about it. I will tell the girls and Aunt Martha," he added.
With a look as though he were going to his death, the older man hurried up the stairs to his wife, and Charles went out to the piazza. The two servants stood grinning happily, feeling the overflow of the festive occasion. Charles could not reveal his secret there.
"Come into the house, a minute, girls. I've something to tell you."
"Indeed, no, Charles!" said Cordelia emphatically. "I will not climb out over the wheels again. I nearly ruined my pelisse getting in. It is very dusty. And I have covered myself all nicely for the journey. Won't it keep?"
"Cordelia, you must come," said the young man imperiously, and stalked into the house, uncertain whether they would follow him.
In a moment Betty appeared roguishly in the parlor door, whither Charles had gone.
"They won't come, Charles," she said. "It's no use. If you had news of an earthquake or a new railroad, they wouldn't stir. Nothing weighs against one's wedding garments, and Cordelia has taken special pains."
But Charles did not respond to Betty's nonsense in his usual merry way.
"Betty, listen," he said gravely. "An awful thing has happened."
"Is Harrington dead?" asked Betty, with wide, frightened eyes and blanched face.