"I did try it." And then I told him the story of my attempt.
"We have a great deal to be thankful for," Jack said, soberly, when I had finished. "A very great deal indeed."
"Yes, more than you know," I returned, joyously, eager to spread the good news. "Jean has consented to be my wife."
Jack refused to be excited. "Congratulations, old boy," he said, pressing my hand, "but, really, that is hardly a news item. Jean has been—well, on the point of consent for a long, long while."
"Oh, Jack, that isn't fair!"
"Sorry, Sister, perhaps it isn't quite. But you two have been so beastly slow over this business you've tied up the whole progress of events, and now you want me to be surprised about something that's long overdue."
"Well, it's settled now, anyway," said I, "and as soon as you and Marjorie can make up your minds we will fix a date."
"As soon as Marjorie and I can make up our minds!" Jack exclaimed. "Son, our minds were made up months ago. We've been waiting, waiting. At last we concluded that we really must speed things up a little, so it was arranged that Marjorie would send you over here last night, and I would accidentally miss you in the gully and go over to Marjorie's. Of course, we didn't know there was a storm coming. It rather overdid things from a conventional point of view, but fortunately Mrs. Grundy hasn't moved out here yet."
"Why, I never thought of such a thing!" cried Jean, indignantly. "How can you——?"
"Of course you didn't, you old dear," said Jack, drawing her within his arm, "and, I'll bet a wedding present, neither did Frank. And listen, little woman, you're getting one of the best little chums and one of the whitest men between the Red River and the Rockies—and beyond. And as for you, you old son-of-a-gun," punching me in the ribs, "if there are two angels in the world to-day one of them is Jean Lane."