“Of course you will not go abroad so soon now, Cecil?”
“I am afraid I ought to go. Mother and father will expect me, and I promised to go as soon as I had attended to that business. But—it will be hard to go now. I have a bright idea. Can not you and Louise go with me?”
Molly’s heart leaped wildly, then calmed again as Mrs. Barry shook her head.
“I am too old to cross the sea again. I want to die in my native land,” she said.
“Louise, then—with a maid, of course?” he said, but again the old woman shook her head.
“I’m afraid it would not be exactly proper then,” she replied.
“Then I shall write to my folks that I shall delay my return until my bride is ready to accompany me,” he replied, with a tender smile at Molly, who replied, in a fright:
“No, no, I’m too young yet.”
“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Barry, sharply. “Why, Louise Barry, in my young days a girl of five-and-twenty was considered an old maid, and here you are talking of being too young. Don’t mind her, Cecil. I’ll order her wedding things at once, and she shall be ready as soon as you wish.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barry!” exclaimed the prospective bridegroom, radiant.