"That young Belgian says he's a good milker, and you needn't worry about—"
"I won't," I again answered Matthew, and there was snap enough in my eyes and voice to make him whistle under his breath as he literally swooped up Polly, and they both had the good sense to begin to talk about town affairs and leave unmentioned all rural matters.
Half-way into town Matthew swapped me for his Belgian in Owen's car, and Polly and I went on in with Owen and Bess, while Matthew returned out the Riverfield ribbon to install the rescuer of Elmnest.
"Oh, Ann, this is delicious," said Bess as she came back with me to cuddle me and ask questions. "But what are—"
"Bess," I said, looking her straight in the face with determination, "I am going to marry Matt two days before you marry Owen, though he doesn't know it yet, and if you talk about Elmnest to me I'll go and stay with Belle this week."
"How perfectly lovely, and how tired you are, poor dear!" Bess congratulated and exclaimed all in the same breath, then imparted both my announcement and my injunction to Owen on the front seat. I didn't look at Polly while Owen was laughing and exclaiming, but when I did she looked queer and quiet; however, I didn't let that at all affect the nice crisp crust that had hardened on me overnight. And I must say that if Corn-tassel wasn't happy that evening surrounded by the edition of masculine society that Matt had so carefully expurgated for her, she ought to have been.
By that time I had told Matthew about his approaching marriage, accepted his bear-hug of joy, delivered before Bess and Polly and Owen and Belle, and I had been congratulated and received back into the bosom of my friends with great joy and hilarity.
"Now I can take care of you forever and ever, Ann," whispered Matthew in his good-night, with his lips against my ear. And there in his strong, sustaining arms, even though limp with fatigue, I knew I never did, could, or would, love anybody like I loved him. I don't really suppose I did hear Polly sob on her pillow beside mine, where she had insisted on reposing. She must have been all right, for she was gone out into the rural district with Matthew before I was awake the next morning.
After Annette had served mine and Bess's chocolate in Bess's bedroom we settled down to the real seriousness of trousseau talk, which lasted for many long hours.
"Now if I sell you back all the things of yours I haven't worn for two hundred and fifty dollars that will leave you over three hundred in the bank to get a few wash frocks and hats and things to last you until you are enough married to Matthew to use his money freely," said Bess after about an hour of discussion and admiration of her own half-finished trousseau.