Peter stood lost in thought, and Jim grew impatient.
“Well?” he inquired. “What do you think of it?”
The other nodded slowly, his eyes twinkling.
“Bully, but you’ll need a wagon to drive you out––when you’re getting married,” he said. “That’s how I was thinking. Guess I’ll drive you out in mine, eh?”
“But you’re going at sun-up,” cried Eve, in dismay. “We––we can’t get married so soon.”
“Guess I’ll wait over,” Peter answered easily. “It just means off-loading––and then loading up again. My frying-pan can have another cleaning.”
“Thanks, old friend,” cried Jim, linking his arm in Eve’s. “You’re a great feller. You’ll see us––married.” He squeezed the girl’s arm. “And then?”
“And then?”
Peter looked away at the dying light. His eyes were full of the kindly thought his two friends knew so well.