He looked anxiously into the face of his wife as though she could help him.
“That’s not to be wondered at,” said she, smiling. “It seems Miss Graeme herself has been taken by surprise. But she is well pleased for all that. Harry has been in no great hurry, I think.”
“But that ain’t just as I understood it,” persisted Mr Snow. “What does Rose say? She told me this afternoon, when we were riding, something or other, but it sartain wa’n’t that.”
“It could hardly be that, since the letter came when you were away, and even Miss Graeme knew nothing of it till she got the letter,” said Mrs Snow, with some impatience.
“Rosie told me,” went on Mr Snow. “Here she is. What was it you were telling me this afternoon about—about our friend here?”
“Oh! I told you a great many things that it would not do to repeat,” and though Rose laughed, she reddened, too, and looked appealingly at Graeme.
“Wasn’t Roxbury the name of the lady, that you told me was—”
“Oh! Uncle Sampson! Never mind.”
“Dear me,” said Mrs Snow, “what need you make a mystery out of such plain reading. Miss Graeme has gotten a letter telling her that her brother Harry is going to be married; and what is there so wonderful about that?”
“Just so,” said Mr Snow. He did not understand it the least in the world, but he understood that, for some reason or other, Mrs Snow wanted nothing more said about it, so he meant to say no more; and, after a minute, he made Rose start and laugh nervously by the energy with which he repeated, “Just so;” and still he looked from Graeme to Mr Millar, as though he expected them to tell him something.