"I know I'm pretty," remarked Nan, solemnly, "but I'm not vain."
"Why, Nan!" exclaimed Mrs. Lumsden, laughing; "what put in your head the idea that you are pretty?"
"I don't mean my own self," explained Nan, "but the other self that I see in the glass. She and I are very good friends, but sometimes we quarrel. She isn't the one that would have stayed at the door, but my own, own self."
Mrs. Lumsden looked at the girl closely to see if she was joking, but Nan was very serious indeed. "I'm sure I don't understand you," said Gabriel's grandmother.
"Gabriel does," replied Nan complacently. Gabriel understood well enough, but he never could have explained it satisfactorily to any one who was unfamiliar with Nan's way of putting things.
"Well, you are certainly a pretty girl, Nan," Gabriel's grandmother admitted, "and when you and Francis Bethune are married, you will make a handsome pair."
"When Francis Bethune and I are married!" exclaimed Nan, giving a swift side-glance at Gabriel, who pretended to be reading. "Why, what put such an idea in your head, Grandmother Lumsden?"
"Why, it is on the cards, my dear. It is what, in my young days, they used to call the proper caper."
"Well, when Frank and I are to be married, I'll send you a card of invitation so large that you will be unable to get it in the front door." She rose from the footstool, saying, "I must go home; good-bye, everybody; and send me word when you have chocolate cake."
This was so much like the Nan who had been his comrade for so long that Gabriel felt a little thrill of exultation. A little later he asked his grandmother what she meant by saying that it was on the cards for Nan to marry Bethune.