Serena laughed; she was as pleased as he. “You certainly exploded it like a bombshell,” she declared. “I didn't know at first but that you really had gone crazy. And poor Gertie! you didn't prepare her at all. You blurted it out all at once. The words fairly tumbled over each other. I wonder she didn't faint.”
“She isn't the faintin' kind. Serena, we never can be grateful enough to Gertie for what she's done for us. And she sacrificed her own happiness—or thought she did—for you and me and didn't whimper or complain once.”
“I know, Daniel, I know. And pretty soon now we must give her up to someone else. That's the way of the world, though. WE'LL have to be brave then, won't we.”
“So we will. But I'd rather give her to John than any other man on earth. The thought that it was all off between them and that she was grievin' over it was about the hardest thing of all.”
“So it was. Well, now we can be completely happy, every one of us.”
Azuba flounced in from the kitchen. “Ain't they come out of that parlor YET?” she demanded. “I can't keep roast chicken waitin' forever, even for engaged folks.”
But the “engaged folks” themselves appeared at that moment. As one of those who, according to Mrs. Dott, were to be completely happy, Mr. Doane looked his part. Gertrude, too, although her eyes were wet, was smiling.
John and the Dotts shook hands. Daniel turned to his daughter.
“Well, Gertie,” he asked, “are you ready to forgive me for what happened on account of my sendin' that summons to John—that one up in Scarford, I mean?”
“I think so, Daddy.”