"Then he shall have her," said Gay, with decision, "and we'll help him along; he's an old bachelor, and he won't know what to do."
"He must have read in books. You know in Jane's novel Rudolph de Montmorenci says to Lady Arabella, 'Angel of my life, fly with me!'"
"That wouldn't help Uncle Harold any. Aunt Celia can't fly, and he doesn't look as if he could! No, May; he'll never do it by himself. We must help him."
"I guess anybody as big as Uncle Harold can manage a little woman like Aunt Celia by himself."
"I don't know about that. Aunt Celia is little, but she's 'kinder skittish,' for Margery says so. But it isn't her as much as the minister we've got to look out for. It is my opinion, May, that he is just going to Cedarville to get ahead of Uncle Harold. Oh, you needn't smile! A minister is only a man, and hates to be done out of a thing as much as anybody. But he'll be done out of Aunt Celia—I can tell him that!"
"How? who will do it, Gay?"
"Wait and see!" was the mysterious response.