both wish them the same. And we're
always going to be together, like old times, the four of us. And tell
them they're invited down to 507 Pine Street next Sunday for Sunday
dinner.--And, Mary, if you want to come Saturday night you can sleep in
the spare bedroom."

"You've told'm yourself, better'n I could." Billy clapped his hands.
"You did yourself proud, an' I guess they ain't much to add to it, but
just the same I'm goin' to pass them a hot one."

He stood up, his hand on his glass. His clear blue eyes under the
dark brows and framed by the dark lashes, seemed a deeper blue, and
accentuated the blondness of hair and skin. The smooth cheeks were
rosy--not with wine, for it was only his second glass--but with health
and joy. Saxon, looking up at him, thrilled with pride in him, he was so
well-dressed, so strong, so handsome, so clean-looking--her man-boy. And
she was aware of pride in herself, in her woman's desirableness that had
won for her so wonderful a lover.

"Well, Bert an' Mary, here you are at Saxon's and my wedding supper.
We're just goin' to take all your good wishes to heart, we wish you the
same back, and when we say it we mean more than you think we mean. Saxon
an' I believe in tit for tat. So we're wishin' for the day when the
table is turned clear around an' we're sittin' as guests at your weddin'
supper. And then, when you come to Sunday dinner, you can both stop
Saturday night in the spare bedroom. I guess I was wised up when I
furnished it, eh?"

"I never thought it of you, Billy!" Mary exclaimed. "You're every hit as
raw as Bert. But just the same..."

There was a rush of moisture to her eyes. Her voice faltered and broke.
She smiled through her tears at them, then turned to look at Bert, who
put his arm around her and gathered her on to his knees.

When they left the restaurant, the four walked to Eighth and Broadway,
where they stopped beside the electric car. Bert and Billy were awkward
and silent, oppressed by a strange aloofness. But Mary embraced Saxon
with fond anxiousness.

"It's all right, dear," Mary whispered. "Don't be scared. It's all
right. Think of all the other women in the world."

The conductor clanged the gong, and the two couples separated in a
sudden hubbub of farewell.

"Oh, you Mohegan!" Bert called after, as the car got under way. "Oh, you
Minnehaha!"

"Remember what I said," was Mary's parting to Saxon.

The car stopped at Seventh and Pine, the terminus of