A few minutes later Courage appeared in the cabin doorway.
“Come here,” she said, motioning to Mammy and hurrying to Joe’s side. “There’s another secret in the wind this afternoon, and I want to tell it to both of you myself. I think I shall come down here to live for good and all before very long——”
“De Lord be praised!” ejaculated Joe and Mammy in one breath.
“And I’m coming because I am going to marry Harry Ellis——” “’Tis de Lord’s own doin’s,” cried Joe, fervently, “for we all need you.”
“And never you fear but Sylvia will live here too,” said Courage, turning radiantly to Mammy. Then in a flash she was gone to hurry after the little party over the road. With Harry and Brevet, Courage went straight up to Ellismere that night to see Grandma Ellis, and then another dear old heart was gladdened beyond all words by the good news she had to tell. The next day Courage went back to town with the Bennetts, leaving Sylvia to stay with Mammy until she should return, and Courage was to return before very long. A good deal had been talked over and arranged for in the evening spent at Ellismere, and among other things that there should be a wedding at Little Homespun late in October. By that time, probably, Joe would be able to drive up from Arlington, and Colonel Anderson would come down from Washington, and Courage knew that the Everetts and a few other dear friends would come down just as gladly from New York, and another matter that had been as fully agreed upon was, that although Courage’s home was to be at Ellismere for the winter, she and Harry should move up to Little Homespun the coming summer, and Mary Duff should bring down some other party of little city-children to run wild and enjoy all the delights of the unknown country just as the little Bennetts had done.
And so it came about that there was no real sadness in the good-byes which were said on the morrow—even the Bennetts found they were glad to go, now it came to the point, for when all is said, home is home the world over. Harry and Brevet drove up to Washington to see the little party off and then drove back to Ellismere, not saying much to each other by the way, but both very contented and happy. Brevet was humming his own favourite air, as in all serene and quiet moods, until at last as though to give vent to the joy within him he broke into the old words,—
“I’se a little Alabama Coon
I hasn’t been born very long-”
“Right you are,” laughed Harry, interrupting, “and a dear little coon into the bargain, and who has been born quite long enough to make the time tell.”
“What do you mean?” asked Brevet, with puzzled frown.