"Ella and her mother went to church with us last Sunday," he said. "Rose-Marie and I were starting out, together, and they asked if they might go along. I tell you"—his eyes were looking deep, deep, into the eyes of Rose-Marie and he spoke directly to her, "I tell you, dear—I've learned a great many lessons in the last few weeks. Jim isn't the only one—or Bennie. Lily isn't the only nearly incurable case that has found new strength…."
Rose-Marie was blushing. The Superintendent, watching the waves of colour sweep over her face, spoke suddenly—reminiscently.
"Child," she said—and laughter, tremulous laughter, was in her voice, "your face is ever so pink! I believe," she was quoting, "'that you have a best beau'!"
The Young Doctor was laughing, too. Strangely enough his laughter had just the suggestion of a tremor in it.
"I'll say that she has!" he replied, and his words, though slangy, were very tender. "I'll say that she has!" And then—"Are we going back to the little town, Rose-Marie," he questioned. "Are we going back to the little town to be married?"
The blush had died from Rose-Marie's face, leaving it just faintly flushed. The eyes that she raised to the Young Doctor's eyes were like warm stars.
"No," she told him, "we're not! I've thought it all out. We're going to be married here—here in the Settlement House. I'll write for my aunts to come on—and for my old pastor! I couldn't be married without my aunts…. And my pastor; he christened me, and he welcomed me into the church, and"—all at once she started up from the table, "I'm going up-stairs to write, now," she managed. "I want to tell them that we're going to start our home here"—her voice broke, "here, on our own Island…." Like a flash she was out of the door.
The Young Doctor was on his feet. Luncheon was quite forgotten.
"I think," he said softly, and his face was like a light, "I think that I'll go with her—and help her with the letter!" The door closed, sharply, upon his hurrying back.
* * * * *