"Or too old—too awful old!"
"No, indeed! You will be twenty-seven. Call it fourteen years, then you will be only twenty-one."
"But," said Cyrus, "we may forget all about it in fourteen years."
"Then it will be no disappointment to you if you can't marry. But run along now, children, I have no more time for you." He spoke with such decision as he began reading the letter in his hand that the unmarried couple turned about and slowly vanished.
When they passed out into the open air, a stranger might have thought, from the manner in which Zac bounced with joy and lifted up his voice, that Cyrus was emerging from the Valley of the Shadow of Death. As they stood again on the porch, the corners of Ruth's mouth were drooping. There were tears in her irresistible eyes. Cyrus laid his hands on her shoulders.
"Now don't you feel bad, Ruthy. If you want to be married, we just will."
The maiden shook her head. "He said not."
"No, he didn't. He only said he was busy."
"He said only grown people got married."
"But he didn't say children couldn't if they wanted to."