“Ah,” sighed Cousin Ronald, “I am sorry there is no time for furnishing a handsomer trousseau. But fortunately it can be done afterward.”
“No, no, dear Cousin Ronald, I have plenty of fine clothes,” said Marian. “You have been so, so good to me.”
At that Dr. Conly, remembering the munificent fee he had received that morning, smiled quietly to himself; but not a word did he say to any one about it. He felt that words could not express his appreciation of Mr. Croly’s generosity to himself and others instrumental in the saving of his son’s life; for he had learned from Harold that the men in the boat that picked up the nearly drowned young man had each been liberally rewarded, the one who drew him from the water especially so. Calling his Cousin Elsie aside, “Can we have any invited guests, do you think?” he asked with a humorous smile.
“Guests?” she repeated, with a look of surprise. “I hardly know where to find them in time for so hastily gotten up a ceremony.”
“The Crolys are near at hand,” he suggested.
“Oh, yes! invite them if you wish to,” she returned with an amused laugh. “But we cannot get up anything like a proper wedding-feast on so short a notice.”
“Oh, I dare say they will make due allowance for haste, and expect little entertainment besides a good look at the bride,” he said laughingly.
“Then I will send them a note of invitation. Also one to the younger Mr. and Mrs. Croly and to our poor friend Will.”
“Cousin,” he said with a joyous look, “I have something for your ear alone; other relatives and friends shall know of it by and by.” Then he read her Mr. Croly’s note and showed its inclosure.
“Oh, Art, I am so glad, so very glad!” she said, her eyes full of happy tears. “Yes, my dear fellow, give them all the warmest of invitations, though I hardly think Will or his father or mother will come; but they shall have the warmest of welcomes if they do.”