“Oh! how good, how generous, how noble you are,” said Harry, who knew full well that Mabel loved him; in more ways than one she had let the dear secret escape her. “And fortunate will be the man who wins you!”
Here the girl stood silent a moment; a violent struggle was going on within her. Then, a sunny look beaming over her face, “Who has won me,” she replied.
“Well spoken, child!” exclaimed Mrs. Willey, clapping her on the shoulder—“well spoken!”
“Why, Harry,” added Mabel, “I am going to be your step-mother.”
“Really, truly!” cried a voice from an upper window. “My Harry’s step-mother!” In another moment Kitty Gibbon came rushing down the staircase at a break-neck pace, and half choked Mabel with her embraces. Her arms were still clasping Mabel’s neck when the elder Harry appeared on the scene; and we may imagine, if we can, what his feelings were as Mabel stretched out one of her hands towards him.
Presently Mr. Willey arrived; then the grandfather and all the little ones; and while they were rejoicing together a man on horseback galloped up.
“Is there a lady here named Miss Gibbon?” inquired the stranger.
“Yes, I am she,” answered Kitty, looking somewhat agitated, for she could not imagine what the fellow wanted; all sorts of things passed through her head.
“Well, I have a telegram for you,” continued the man, handing her an envelope.
“A telegram! Why, so it is, and from Europe, too!” cried Kitty. Then, tearing it open, she read as follows: