Jean and--and what?" screamed Elizabeth. "Not the bone man?"

"Yes, why not? He's all right I tell you, Lizzie. Finest chap in our
year. Going to be gold medalist, sure."

"But how on earth?--what in the world?--John Gordon, are you telling me
the truth or is it a joke?"

"Both. Mac and I nearly took hysterics the night Bags told us. We
never suspected it. He never met a girl on the street without shying,
and how he and Jean made it up is a mystery. But it's all right, and
Aunt Margaret 'll be tickled to death. Say, you must tell her. Go and
do it now like a good kid. I'm going over to have a chat with Tom."

But Elizabeth would not let him go. She had not recovered from the
shock. For the first time since her return home she felt her old
spirits return. As yet, to Elizabeth, all love-making was something of
a joke, and this was undoubtedly the funniest thing that had ever
happened in Cupid's line. She deluged John with questions. What had
put it into the bone-collector's shaggy head? And having got it there,
where did he get the courage to propose? He must have done it by
telephone, and long-distance, too. Or did he come stumbling into
Jean's study and inquire in awful tones, "Miss Gordon, will you lend me
your heart?" and then dash out and fall downstairs? And even if one
could imagine his offering himself, how could anyone who knew Jean
conjure up a picture of her stopping her mathematics long enough either
to accept or reject? What a "come-downer" it would be for Jean to be
merely married!

The brother and sister laughed together, in the disrespectful way that
younger brothers and sisters have, and Miss Gordon, seated at her
sewing by the open parlor window, heard Elizabeth's gay voice with
rising resentment. The care-free laughter seemed to her but another
indication of the girl's defiant indifference to her wishes.

Elizabeth entered, radiant with her news, but the sight of her aunt's
face smote her. Miss Gordon had aged under her disappointment, and
looked pale and dispirited.

"Is your head aching, Aunt Margaret?" the girl asked timidly.

"No, I thank you, Elizabeth," was the answer in the tones of stately
politeness which Miss Gordon always used towards her wayward niece. "I
am merely worried. But I have become accustomed to that lately."

She sighed deeply, and glad of a diverting subject, Elizabeth delivered
John's report of Jean. The effect was most gratifying. Her aunt gr