"Simpson," said Merriam suddenly, "you've seen Jennie!"
Simpson stopped absolutely still for a moment with a couple of folded shirts in his hands. Then he placed the shirts in the suit case, straightened up, and looked at Merriam.
"Yes, Mr."--he hesitated and decided to use the real name--"yes, Mr. Merriam, I have. I went out there this morning, as you suggested."
"She let you in?"
"Yes she did. She let me sit down on the sofa with her, and we had a long talk. I ended by asking her again to marry me--and she said she would."
"And she kissed you!" Merriam cried gaily. He had for the moment forgotten his own troubles in Simpson's happiness, for which he rightly felt he might claim some credit, and in an appreciative recollection of Jennie's temperament. Within a dozen hours she had also kissed Crockett and himself. But Jennie was born to kiss.
Simpson looked quickly at the younger man and returned to his packing. "Yes," he said, "she did."
Merriam regretted his exclamation, which had, in fact, told too much. For several minutes he watched in silence the deft, efficient work of his companion. Then he asked:
"When is it to be?"
"The wedding, sir?"