"Oh, I cannot! I don't know when. Next summer some time."
"That is indefinite," he laughed. "Allow me to be definite. Say early next May."
"No, no, no! that is too soon—greatly too soon! I couldn't be ready."
"Then, when? I won't be selfish, but you must be merciful, mademoiselle, and not keep me in suspense too long."
She laughed her old gay laugh.
"Patience, monsieur; patience stands chief among the virtues. Will June do—the last?"
"The first, Norine."
Aunt Hetty was coming through the hall. Norine darted away.
"Have it as you will! Don't you want me to help you with breakfast, auntie?"
Mr. Gilbert smilingly looked after his bright little prize, so soon to be his bright little wife, then turned to Aunt Hetty.