He thought a little.
"The sooner the better," he said. "Joe is busy towing booms this week and there is no possible chance of his coming home. I am not too busy and can spare the part of three or four consecutive days for the job.
"If we can only get Margaret and Rita to agree."
"I can guarantee Rita," I said.
"And I can coerce Margaret," he put in.
"We'll arrange with the women folks to-morrow sometime, and we'll tackle poor old Andrew the following afternoon."
The minister waited and had tea with me. It was late when he took his departure.
Just as I was tumbling into bed, I remembered Mary Grant's letter. I took it out of my coat pocket and opened it. It was not a letter, after all; merely a note.
"Please,—please forgive me," it read. "You are a brave and very gallant gentleman.
"MARY GRANT."