"He has found it now," said Justin, firmly, "and he bids you Godspeed."
"I guess we can go on with that clerical blessing," observed Captain White. "Now, Hippolyta, run up-stairs and get into that black silk of yours."
"You don't care to be married here?" said Derrice.
"Not by that clip next door," replied Captain White, "and then the boys would roast me to death. Hippolyta and I will keep out of the place for a week or two, and don't let 'em know when we're coming back. Good-bye."
Derrice and her husband stood in the doorway and watched them depart. With ready adaptability, she declared they would find the new state of affairs a vast improvement on the old. With more worldly wisdom, and with a strange sense of having lost some valued possession, Justin shook his head and foresaw that the change meant a new master for the house, and the consequent removal of himself and his wife. And yet he was deeply attached to his cousin Micah, who certainly had a wonderful and beneficial influence over his mother. It was all for the best. He was glad and thankful, and yet he went to the bank with a drooping head.
Derrice darted into the parsonage and imparted her news with a most gratifying and electrical effect to Mrs. Negus, who sat alone in the parlour over a basket of torn stockings.
After a time, and when they had fully discussed all phases of this surprising occurrence, Derrice seized a darning-needle and a ball of wool, and made haste to assist her busy neighbour. Then her thoughts reverted to the condition in which she had found her. "Dear Mrs. Negus," she said, softly, "you were crying when I came in. I have never seen tears in your eyes before."
"They are not often there," said the little lady, taking off her glasses and wiping them, "but I am sick at heart, dear."
"About Mr. Huntington," said Derrice, in a low voice.
"Yes, dear."