“Kitty, I forgive you. Will allow you $5,000 per year. Count de Montjoli heart-broken. Write at once. God bless you!”
“Oh! it is from mamma,” she said, after reading it to herself. “And now I’ll read it aloud. And, Harry, listen well, for it’s jolly. But let me say before I begin—and I wish mother could hear me—you are worth, dear boy, all the counts in the world.”
Here Kitty read over the telegram, after which followed a general round of embraces. All were indeed happy beyond measure, Mabel as well as the rest; and the girl said to her mother, “You have chosen a husband for me, and no doubt chosen for the best.” Then, with a smile, she added: “And I promise to grow older every day and catch up to him by and by.”
“And you will teach me how to be a farmer’s wife,” said Kitty to Mabel.
“And I’ll play boss over you all,” spoke Farmer Willey, spreading forth his brawny arms so as to covey the whole group.
“Yes, yes,” said young Harry, “and I will write to New York and tell others who are crying over hard times to follow our example and come West.”
“Do, do!” exclaimed Harry’s father. “Here is health and no worry, sound sleep by night, and—”
“Wives to be had without much wooing,” interrupted Mabel, glancing archly at her future husband.
“Darling girl!” replied Mr. Fletcher, with tender pathos in his voice. “This is the blessed end of an old, old courtship. Ay, Mabel, the shadow of my days, like Hezekiah’s, runs backward when I gaze upon you.”
“Well spoken!” exclaimed Mrs. Willey, with tears of joy glistening in her eyes—“well spoken! And, oh! most sincerely do I thank God that my old lover has won his Mabel at last.”