"Then you must start practicing at once," commanded Mrs. Carver, with the air of a matron of long time experience. "I want to go along when she shops for her trousseau. I've yet to see your little old New York," said she, dreamily, as memories came back to her mind.
"Come—jump in and I'll drive you over to 'The White House,'" ordered Updyke, noting her thoughtful attitude. "It's getting late for young married couples to be caught on the streets. There is a curfew law in Riverhead for brides and grooms. Seven thirty, and then the law swoops down!"
And when the happy pair were landed in front of the white painted hotel the big fellow whispered hoarsely—
"I'm going to bring Mary out to see you when you get settled. We'll come some Saturday, and you act as chaperon for a night. Next day we will run over to New York for a whole week while you help do her shopping. That's a go—eh—George?"
"Indeed it is," laughed Winifred, assuming command of the new ship of state. "But wouldn't it be wise to wait and see if she will have you?"
"By George, you're right; I hadn't thought of that. I'll ring her up the moment I get to my hotel," replied Updyke.
"Why not use long distance?" suggested Winifred. "Then George can stand near and coach you. I assure you he is good at it."
"Not much!" exploded Updyke, as he set the starter going. "When I tell Mary, there will be no freshly married people around."
As the long nosed roadster threaded its way along Main Street the Carvers stood watching until its red tail lights faded from view. Thus the happiest day of their lives had merged into night.