"Good land! How did ye come ter guess that?"
"Uncle Jake has not said a word."
"Well--why should he?"
"He's as close as a clam--the old sinner. So we can congratulate you, Gloriana?"
"Ye kin indeed."
We shook hands, and she led the way to her own room. There, spread upon her bed, lay some dainty garments, exquisitely fashioned,--a regular trousseau! Even to our inexperienced eyes the beauty of the workmanship was amazing.
"A woman," she murmured, "likes ter look at sech things. An' I do think these air good enough."
"Good enough!" we repeated. "They're fit for a queen."
"An' a queen is goin' ter wear 'em," said Gloriana proudly--"a queen o' beauty."
We stared blankly at each other. Had Cupid robbed his victim of her wits?