Nos. 2 and 3 had gone, as their services were not needed, but Polly was still there and listened open-mouthed until it came to the engagement, when she gave a shout and insisted upon three cheers from her companions, which they gave with a will, bringing Mrs. Groves to the door, asking: “Why this noise? Are you crazy?”
“Yes,” Polly answered, “crazy with joy! No. 1 is the owner of Maplehurst. They have found papers in the chest proving it, and she is to marry Mr. Marsh! He proposed this morning. Hurrah!”
Mrs. Groves’ chin dropped, but not until she said to Mrs. Pledger: “And so she’s got him at last. Perseverance sometimes has its reward.”
Mrs. Pledger was angry, and replied: “Reward or not, my niece is worthy of Mr. Marsh, and you know it, and have known it all the time that she was your superior, and that is why you badgered her so much. That is the way of some mean minds. Sherry is now the mistress of Maplehurst, and I don’t believe you will come here another year. Good-morning!”
She made a mocking curtesy and left Mrs. Groves more discomfited than she had ever been in her life. She had looked forward to several seasons at Maplehurst, with the fine salary she received. But that was now impossible. “New lords, new laws,” she said to herself. “I must stand it. I wish I had been a little softer to the girl,” and calling to No. 4 reproved her sharply for some trifling omission on the table. Polly, who felt intuitively that Mrs. Groves’ day was over, went on humming to herself and took her time to make the required change.
The next day Mrs. Pledger started for New York, enjoining upon Katy and Sherry that they spend a few days with her on their way to Buford. To Alex. she said: “An old woman’s advice is not good for much, but I’m going to give it just the same. Don’t put off the wedding. Marry as soon as Sherry is well,—say the last of September, and if you will be happier to own Maplehurst with all its jimcracks buy Katy’s share. She will sell. I’ve sounded her. Sherry’s is the same as yours now. Have another house party next summer, but don’t put that Groves woman at the head. They all hate her like pizen. Put me at the head, if you like. I can save you dollars and run things as well as she has.”
Alex. laughed and said he would remember her advice, especially with regard to the wedding, which he would like to have at once. As to Maplehurst, it would take some time to settle everything and know what belonged to the Crosby heirs and what to him, but Craig Saltus and a first-class lawyer in New York were seeing to that. Relieved of care in that direction, Alex.’s good times came back like good measure pressed down and running over, and the world had never been so bright as during the two weeks he stayed at Maplehurst, while Sherry was recovering her strength and growing each day more beautiful, it seemed to him.
Sometimes he drove with her through the lovely country, but oftener sat by her under the maple tree watching the kindling light in her eyes and the dimples coming and going with her blushes, as he told his love over and over again, dating its beginning at the time he saw her at the opera, and its rapid growth when he waltzed with her on the piazza and nearly bumped his head against hers as they bent over the salad plate, and its completion when she turned to him for help against Mrs. Groves’ insinuations.
Alex. was very happy, and it was with regret that he at last left Maplehurst to accompany Katy and Sherry to Buford, where Mrs. Sherman received him as her future son-in-law, and the people came flocking in, ostensibly to see Sherry after her illness, but really to see Alex. He had in mind a trip to Europe for the winter, and as he had a dread of the sea he insisted that their marriage should take place before the autumnal storms came on.
“No need for finery. We can get that in Paris,” he said, and with his push and breeziness he carried his point, and invitations were issued for the last of September.