“No, nor is Cousin Arthur; at least so we all think, we to whom he has always been so kind and faithful as both relative and physician.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Dinsmore, “and any one who is so fortunate as to win his heart and hand will have one of the best, most affectionate, and attentive of husbands.”
“And the disparity of years will not be so very much greater than between Cousin Mary and his brother,” remarked Mrs. Dinsmore.
“And they seem a delightfully happy pair; as a certain married couple of my acquaintance, between whom there must be something like the same disparity of years, are to my actual knowledge,” remarked Violet with a bright, fond look up into her husband’s face as he sat by her side with baby Ned on his knee.
“Quite true, my dear. I could not be induced to exchange my one little wife for half a dozen women of twice her years, even if the law allowed it,” returned the captain with a humorous look and smile.
“Nor could I be induced to exchange my one good big husband for a dozen or more other men of any age, size, or quality,” laughed Violet.
“Wise Vi,” remarked Herbert; “one is plenty; more than one would certainly be a superfluity. There—look toward the shore, everybody. Yonder are Cal and his beloved wandering together near the waves, seemingly in close conversation, while Art and his sit side by side on two camp-chairs a little nearer here, or a trifle farther from the water. There is certainly a good deal of love-making going on.”
“At least things have that appearance,” Harold said with a quiet smile as he and the others followed Herbert’s advice, and gazing out seaward had a pretty view of the two pairs of lovers.
There was little doubt in any of their minds that Arthur and Marian belonged in that class, while the other two were openly acknowledged as such.