"Uh-huh!" says I. "Until some time I can fit one on—well, one that the best man hands me. Come on, Auntie. Have a heart!"
"You ridiculous boy!" says she. "If you must, though—"
Say, I wasn't lookin' for that next move of hers. Think of it—Auntie! And she lands one right on my cheek, too. Everyone sees it. And, while I'm pinkin' up like a cranberry tart, Old Hickory sings out gleeful:
"Tut, tut, Cornelia! What is this all about?"
"I suppose," says Auntie, "that we must drink a toast to these youngsters of ours. That is, if Verona insists on being so foolish."
"How about it, Vee?" I whispers, capturin' her left hand. "Do we let 'em drink?"
"Silly!" says she. "The other finger."
It's a bit public, I admit. Might as well have hired a hall. But they all seems to enjoy handin' us the jolly. Mr. Ellins makes a reg'lar speech, tellin' how fond he is of both of us and how this event pleases him more'n findin' the buried treasure. He winds up by askin' if everybody ain't about ready to start back for New York. The vote is unanimous.
"Why not to-night?" asks J. Dudley.
"To-night it shall be," says Old Hickory.