"Larry," Sarella urged, "won't be so much surprised as you think. Miss Mariquita, you see, wants him and Ginger to make a match of it—"
"But does he?" Jack pleaded, moved by Mariquita's opinion, but not so sure it would reduce Larry to subjection.
"Tut!" said Ginger impatiently. "What's he to do with it? If he don't know what's best for him, I do. So does Miss Sarella. So does Miss Mariquita."
"And," Sarella added, "you may be sure Miss Mariquita would never have said a word about it if she hadn't felt pretty sure it was to come off. She's never been one to be planning marriages. Why, Larry must have made it as plain as a pikestaff that he was ready, or she would never have guessed it."
The weight of this argument left Jack defenseless.
"Hadn't you better wait, Ginger," he attempted to argue with shallow subtlety; "he's like enough to step round after supper. Then I'd clear, and you could say when you liked."
"No," Ginger decided, "I'm tired of him stepping round after supper, just to chatter. He'd be prepared if you told him I'd said he was to come. He'd know something was wanted. In fact, you'd better tell him."
"Tell him? Me? Tell him what?"
"Just that I'd made up my mind to say 'yes' if he'd a question to ask me."
"Why," cried Jack, aghast, "he'd get on his horse and scoot."