"Oh, John," groaned Elizabeth, as they wandered in the lane one warm spring evening, "I wish—I can't tell you how I wish I hadn't spoiled this chance of yours. But I can't see how I could have acted otherwise."
"It's all right, Lizzie," he said comfortingly. "Don't you worry. Of course, I can't see just why you went and busted up things in such a wholesale manner. But I know you felt it was the thing to do, and I can go somewhere else. I may get in with Dr. Harper here in Cheemaun."
"I feel I did right," Elizabeth said mournfully, "but it seems to have turned out all wrong. What does Jean say?"
"Jean?" John laughed. "She wasn't saying anything to anybody but old Bags when I came away. Boys, oh! If I didn't forget. She cautioned me to break the news that they were engaged."
"Engaged! Who?"
"Why, Jean and Bagsley."
"Jean and—and what?" screamed Elizabeth. "Not the bone man?"
"Yes, why not? He's all right I tell you, Lizzie. Finest chap in our year. Going to be gold medalist, sure."
"But how on earth?—what in the world?—John Gordon, are you telling me the truth or is it a joke?"
"Both. Mac and I nearly took hysterics the night Bags told us. We never suspected it. He never met a girl on the street without shying, and how he and Jean made it up is a mystery. But it's all right, and Aunt Margaret 'll be tickled to death. Say, you must tell her. Go and do it now like a good kid. I'm going over to have a chat with Tom."