"And you will be mine?" he whispered, holding the little hand closer.
"Yes," she answered, solemnly.
He caught her in his arms in a transport of delight.
"Thank you—thank you for those words, Ida!" he cried.
"Did I understand you to call me Ida?" she asked in wonder.
"No," he answered, boldly, cursing himself for the slip of the tongue. "I was about to add: 'I do so thank you,' but you did not give me an opportunity to finish the sentence."
The falsehood was so adroitly told that she believed him.
"I shall have to put a curb on my tongue, or Heaven knows what name I shall be saying next."
Should she tell him of the young girl who was at the door waiting to see him? She remembered her mother's words the next moment, to say nothing of the matter.
"Now that you have been so good as to consent to marry me, we are to consider ourselves engaged. The question is, when will you marry me? It may as well be soon as late."