Time passed speedily and happily in their home, varied by visits from friends from the city and the neighborhood, one of the best loved being Erma Merryman. She had returned from her school in Baltimore, a cultured and accomplished young lady, cherished by the home circle and admired in society.
Fred, in his frequent visits to “My Lady’s Manor,” saw, admired, and as was his wont, fell in love with her which impelled Hilda to have a serious talk with him.
“Erma is a sweet, confiding girl,” she said, “and if you are only intending to flirt with her I consider it my duty to warn her and her parents that their confidence in you is misplaced; for you will leave her for the next pretty face you see.”
“Oh, Cousin Hilda, please don’t prejudice them against me! I am really in earnest this time.”
“So you always say. Fred, what does make you so fickle and inconsistent?”
“Absence, Cousin Hilda.”
“Absence! Oh, shame. What style of husband would you make when you so easily forget a loved one when separated for a time?”
“But the case would be entirely different, if the lady were my wife. Never fear, Cousin Hilda. If I am fortunate enough to win Miss Erma Merryman you will see me one of the best of husbands; you will be proud of me yet.”
“Listen, Fred; you and your family have been dear, kind friends to me; but so, also, have been Uncle and Aunt Merryman, and it would distress me beyond measure to have them made unhappy through you.”
“But I will not give them unhappiness; instead, I wish to give them a son-in-law first-class in every respect. Do, Cousin Hilda, lend a helping hand by speaking a good word for me.”