“Ought we to go and tell them now?” she asked, nervously.
“No; let us wait till he is gone, and break it as gently as possible. Poor Viola, will she be glad or sorry, I wonder?” mused the judge, and his sister answered, thoughtfully:
“To judge from the way she has carried on, I should say glad; but still I believe it was all for effect and to punish Desha. Why, there he is going now!” she added, starting up from her seat.
“Then you can take the paper and show her the paragraph, Edwina,” suggested her brother.
“Not me! You must break it to her yourself,” she insisted; and the upshot of it was that they went presently together to Viola, who dashed away the lingering tears and turned to meet them with a pensive smile.
The judge began with a sorry attempt at cheerfulness.
“I—er—so I suppose you and Professor Desha have been making it up, dear?”
To his relief she answered, frankly:
“I have passed through a very unpleasant scene, papa. He came to offer me his hand again.”
“And you—you accepted,” he began, nervously.