ot know the exact date.
Nothing can be definitely settled until Mr. Malcolm MacPherson comes.
But it will not be before September, at the earliest. There will be so
much to do. You will tell your father, won't you?"

We promised that we would, and Aunt Olivia arose with an air of relief.
Peggy and I hurried over home, stopping, when we were safely out of
earshot, to laugh. The romances of the middle-aged may be to them as
tender and sweet as those of youth, but they are apt to possess a good
deal of humour for onlookers. Only youth can be sentimental without
being mirth-provoking. We loved Aunt Olivia and were glad for her
late, new-blossoming happiness; but we felt amused over it also. The
recollection of her "Mr. Malcolm MacPherson" was too much for us every
time we thought of it.

Father pooh-poohed incredulously at first, and, when we had convinced
him, guffawed with laughter. Aunt Olivia need not have dreaded any more
opposition from her cruel family.

"MacPherson was a good fellow enough, but horribly poor," said father.
"I hear he has done very well out west, and if he and Olivia have a
notion of each other they are welcome to marry as far as I am concerned.
Tell Olivia she mustn't take a spasm if he tracks some mud into her
house once in a while."

Thus it was all arranged, and, before we realized it at all, Aunt Olivia
was mid-deep in marriage preparations, in all of which Peggy and I were
quite indispensable. She consulted us in regard to everything, and we
almost lived at her place in those days preceding the arrival of Mr.
Malcolm MacPherson.

Aunt Olivia plainly felt very happy and important. She had always
wished to be married; she was not in the least strong-minded and her
old-maidenhood had always been a sore point with her. I think she looked
upon it as somewhat of a disgrace. And yet she was a born old maid;
looking at her, and taking all her primness and little set ways into
consideration, it was quite impossible to picture her as the wife of Mr.
Malcolm MacPherson, or anybody else.

We soon discovered that, to Aunt Olivia, Mr. Malcolm MacPherson
represented a merely abstract proposition--the man who was to confer on
her the long-withheld dignity of matronhood. Her romance began and ended
there, although she was quite unconscious of this herself, and believed
that she was deeply in love with him.

"What will be the result, Mary, when he arrives in the flesh and she
is compelled to deal with '