'About like that,' she answered, laughing, 'and then he ought to say something very, very, nice to her before he proposes—something about his having loved her for so long—you know.'
'And how about her?' I asked, my arm still about her waist.
'If she really loves him,' Hope answered, 'she would put her arms about his neck and lay her head upon his shoulder, so; and then he might say what is in the story.' She was smiling now as she looked up at me.
'And kiss her?'
'And kiss her,' she whispered; and, let me add, that part of the scene was in nowise neglected.
'And when he says: “will you wait for me and keep me always in your heart?” what should be her answer,' I continued.
'Always!' she said.
'Hope, this is our own story,' I whispered. 'Does it need any further correction?'
'It's too short—that's all,' she answered, as our lips met again.
Just then Uncle Eb opened the door, suddenly.