"Heavens!"
"Well, how were we to know?" Sylvia demanded.
"How, indeed? If an innocent citizen cannot visit a town without being arrested as a criminal within a week of his arrival, why shouldn't he be married without his knowledge? Circumstantial evidence can, apparently, work wonders."
Then suddenly he threw back his head and laughed.
"Bless you, little Sylvia—bless you for setting me right. I told you you were a brick and you've proved it. Thanks to you, everything is now straightened out."
"Not quite everything, I am afraid," the girl protested.
"Everything that is of importance," he amended. "The rest will untangle itself in time. I am not worrying about it. Here, give me your hand. How am I to thank you for what you have done? I only hope that young Horatio Fuller of yours realizes what a treasure he is getting."
"He does, Mr. Heath—he does," observed that gentleman, strolling at the same instant through the door and encircling his tiny bride-to-be with his arm. "Haven't I traveled half way across this big country of ours to marry her?"
"Oh, we're not going to be married yet, Hortie," demurred the girl trying to wrench herself free of the big fellow's hold.
"Certainly we are, my dear. Didn't you know that? I'm surprised how many things there are that you don't know," he went on teasingly. "I thought I explained exactly what brought me East. Didn't I tell you this morning I came to get married? I was perfectly serious. Dad gave me two months vacation with that understanding. I must either produce a wife when I get home or lose my job. He'll never give me another furlough if I don't."