y life, all of you," said he,
stiffly. "Have I ever given any of you any reason to doubt me!"

"No, and we don't. Not one of us. But it's good for your soul to say
things out loud," said Flint comfortably. "And now you've said it,
don't you think you two had better go on over to the Parish House
parlor, which is a nice quiet place, and talk this whole business over
and out--together?"

Laurence looked at Mary Virginia and what he saw electrified him.
Boyishness flooded him, youth danced in his eyes, beauty was upon him,
like sunlight.

"Mary Virginia!" said the boy lover to the girl sweetheart, "is it
really so? I was really right to believe all along that you--care?"

"Laurence, Laurence!" she was half-crying. "Oh, Laurence, are you sure
_you_ care--yet? You are sure, Laurence? You are _sure_? Because--I--I
don't think I could stand things now if--if I were mistaken--"

I don't know whether the boy ran to the girl at that, or the girl to
the boy. I rather think they ran to each other because, in another
moment, perfectly regardless of us, they were clinging to each other,
and my mother was walking around them and crying heartily and
shamelessly, and enjoying herself immensely. Mary Virginia began to
stammer:

"Laurence, if you only knew--Laurence, if it wasn't for John
Flint--and the Padre--" The two of them had the two of us, each by an
arm; and the Butterfly Man was brick-red and furiously embarrassed, he
having a holy horror of being held up and thanked.

"Why, I did what I did," said he, uncomfortably. "But,"--he brightened
visibly--"if you _will_ have the truth, have it. If it wasn't for this
blessed brick of a parson I'd never have been in a position to do
anything for anybody. Don't you forget that!"

"What ridiculous nonsense the man talks!" said I, exasperated by this
shameless casuistry. "John Flint raves. As for me--"

"As for you," said he with deep reproach, "you ought to know better
than to tell such a thumping lie at this time of your life. I'm
ashamed of you, parson! Why, you know good and well--"

"Why, John Flint, you--" I began, aghast.

My mother began to laugh. "For heaven's sake, thank them both and
have done with it!" said she, a bit hysterically. "God alone knows how
they managed, but this thing lies between them, the two great geese.
Did one ever hear the like?"

"Madame is right, as always," said Laurence gravely. "Remember, I
don't know anything yet, except that somehow you've