"Helen Randall," she broke out, and her voice, like the dawn, had a gray tinge about it, "Helen Randall, you're a silly little goose—coming in here trembling, and waking me up and scaring me half to death, only to tell me that the man you're engaged to wants to marry you."
"But, mother," I began earnestly, "it's different—you don't understand."
"Nonsense, child," she interrupted, "there isn't anything to understand. What do folks get engaged for? What does any lover want, except to get married? And this is the great fright you got; it seems that you got engaged to a man, and then he alarms you by suggesting you get married! Let's go to sleep," and my mother patted the pillow with her cheek, preparing to resume the operation I had interrupted.
"But I won't go to sleep," persisted I. "You don't understand—Mr. Giddens wants to marry me right off—right away soon." My mother turned her head a little on the pillow. She was wakening fast.
"What's that you say?" she said.
I knew she had heard me quite well, but I repeated it willingly enough. "I say he wants to get married—very soon. His family is going to Europe shortly—and it seems his father says we can spend the first part of our honeymoon on the Sea-Nymph, and then join them all in Europe later on. And so Charlie has quite made up his mind that——"
"What's the Sea-Nymph?" interrupted my mother eagerly.
"It's the name of the yacht—a new yacht they've got."
"A yacht? A private yacht?" breathlessly asked my mother.
"Yes, a private yacht," I answered, not much elated about it either.