spell it, and don't call
me Jonah."

"Never! He was the prophet of evil, and you are the good genius of my
life."

"I'm not sure whether I am or not. It plunges you into all sorts of
embarrassments to think of marrying me. Neither of us has any money.
You'll have to work hard for years before you can afford a wife,--and
then there's your sister to be considered."

"I know. Poor Moggy! But she came out for my sake. She will probably be
only too glad to get home again whenever--other arrangements are
possible. Will you wait a while for me, my sweet?"

"I don't mind if I do."

"How long will you wait?"

"Shall we say ten years?"

"Ten years! By Jove, no! We'll say no such thing! But eighteen
months,--we'll fix it at eighteen months, or two years at farthest. I
can surely fetch it in two years."

"Very well, then; I'll wait two years with pleasure."

"I don't ask you to wait _with pleasure_! That's carrying it a little
too far!"

"I don't seem able to please you, whatever I say," remarked Johnnie,
pretending to pout.

"Please me, darling Joan! You please me down to the ground, and you
always did! But if you'll wait two years,--not with pleasure, but with
patience and resignation,--I'll buckle to with a will and earn my
happiness. Your father won't be averse, will he?"

"Poor papa! Yes, he _is_ very averse to having his girls marry, but he's
somewhat hardened to it. I'm the last of the four, you know, and I think
he would give his blessing to you rather than any one else, because you
would bring me out here to live near the others. Perhaps he will come
too. It is the dream of Clover's and Elsie's lives that he should."

"That would be quite perfect for us all."

"You say that to please me, I know, but you will say it with all your
heart if ever it happens, for my father is the sweetest man in the
world, and the wisest and most reasonable. You will love him dearly. He
has been father and mother and all to us children. And there's my sister
Katy,--you will love her too."

"I have seen her once, you remember."

"Yes; but you can't find Katy out at once,--there is too much of her.
Oh, I've ever so many nice relations to give you. There's Ned
Worthington; he's a dear,--and Cousin Helen. Did I ever tell you about
her? She's a terrible invalid, you know, almost always confined to her
bed or sofa, and yet she has been one of the great influences of our
lives,--a sort of guardian angel, always helping and brigh