"Then I can rely on your co-operation in this matter, Mr. Stillwater?"
"You can," said Mr. Stillwater. "I'd like to see it. I've known you from a little lad and you're the son of my oldest friend. I'm with you—you can figure what that's worth." He himself knew how little his wishes would weigh with his opiniative little daughter, in such a case. Glen also realized that fact only too well. What they said was merely a matter of form. They both felt there was a certain etiquette attendant on the subject. "Thank you, Mr. Stillwater. I'm glad to think you consider me a proper husband for Indiana."
"Don't mention it, my boy! and now, I want to give you a little advice. Don't spring anything on Indiana!"
Glen looked at him inquiringly.
"Don't be too sudden—"
"Indiana has already received several offers, but I don't believe anyone of them was a shock to her," answered Glen dryly. He thought also, "How can a fellow be sudden with a girl he's known ever since she had short, yellow rings curling all over her head, and wasn't sure on her feet."
"She expected those offers, but she never dreams of such a thing from you."
"No, I don't suppose she does," said Glen, gloomily.
"Of course, we can't tell anything about her. One never knows what sort of a notion Indiana's going to take. I don't want to discourage you—but don't stake your whole life on this thing, my boy. It won't do—it never does."
Glen drew a deep breath, and turned his head away.