"Scissors and white aprons!" said Sharon. "Of all things you wouldn't expect!"
Merle stood before the group with a tragic face.
"It's hard, Father, but she says it's done. I suppose—I suppose we'll have to make the best of it."
Hereupon Sharon Whipple's eyes began to blink rapidly, his jaw dropped, and he slid forward in his chair to writhe in a spasm of what might be weirdly silent laughter. His face was purple, convulsed, but no sound came from his moving lips. The others regarded him with alarm.
"Not a stroke?" cried Harvey D., and ran to his side. As he sought to loosen Sharon's collar the old man waved him off and became happily vocal.
"Oh, oh!" he gasped. "That Merle boy has brightened my whole day!"
Merle frowned.
"Perhaps you may see something to laugh at," he said, icily.
Sharon controlled his seizure. Pointing his eyebrows severely, he cocked a presumably loaded thumb at Merle.
"Let me tell you, young man, the best this family can make of that marriage will be a darned good best. Could you think of a better best—say, now?" Merle turned impatiently from the mocker.