. Isn't that right, Jimmy?"

"Perfectly," he replied, his mind still whirling in an effort to adjust
actualities to his conception of what realities should be.

The four had formed a little group to themselves in the center of the
parlor, Lucy clinging to Jimmy's arm, Mrs. Putnam eying them both with a
happy expression, and Alice fluttering from one to the other, assuring
them that they were the handsomest couple she ever had seen, that they
ought to be proud of each other, and that Mrs. Putnam ought to be proud
of them, and that she was sure nobody in all the world ever, ever could
be as sublimely, beatifically happy as they would be, and that they must
be sure to let her come to visit them.

"And," she cried, admiringly, stopping to pat Jimmy on his unclutched
arm, "I just think your idea of proposing by telegraph was the brightest
thing I ever heard of!"

It is to be written to the everlasting credit of James Trottingham
Minton that he restrained himself from uttering the obvious remark on
hearing this. Two words from him would have wrecked the house of cards.
Instead, he blushed and smiled modestly. Slowly it was filtering into
his brain that by some unusual, unexpected, unprecedented freak of
fortune his difficulties had been overcome; that some way or other he
had proposed and had been accepted.

"I shall always cherish that telegram," Lucy declared, leaning more
affectionately toward Jimmy. "If that grimy-faced messenger boy had not
gone away so quickly with my answer I should have kissed him!"

"I've got the telegram here, dear," said Mrs. Putnam.

"Oh, let's see it again," Alice begged. "I always wanted to hear a
proposal, but it is some satisfaction to see one."

Mrs. Putnam opened her hand satchel, took out the telegram, unfolded it
slowly, and they all looked at it, Jimmy gulping down a great choke of
joy as he read:

"Please meet me and marry at Annex at two o'clock."

His bashfulness fell from him as a garment. He took the message, saying
he would keep it, so that it might not be lost. Then he piloted the two
girls and Mrs. Putnam to the spot where Mary had been waiting patiently
and wonderingly.

"Mary," he said boldly, without a tremor in his voice, "I want you to
meet the future Mrs. Minton, and my future mother-in-law, Mrs. Putnam,
and my future--what are you to me, anyhow, Alice?"

"I'm a combination flower girl, maid of honor and sixteen bridesmaids
chanting the wedding march," she laug