s wonderful," said Everard, impressed to the point of
violence. "You are to compose and to read the poem on the Pilgrim
Fathers?"

"That's the prize," said Grahame severely. He might be squaring off at
this man the next moment, and could not carry his honors lightly. "And
now that it has come I want my reward. We must be married two weeks
before I read that poem, and the whole world must see and admire the
source of my inspiration."

He drew his beloved into his arms and kissed her pale cheek.

"Very well. That will be appropriate," the father said placidly,
clearing his throat to read the invitation aloud. He read pompously,
quite indifferent to the emotion of his children, proud that they were
to be prominent figures in a splendid gathering. They, beatified, pale,
unstrung by this calm acceptance of what he had opposed bitterly two
years, sat down foolishly, and listened to the pompous utterance of
pompous phrases in praise of dead heroes and a living poet. Thought and
speech failed together. If only some desperado would break in upon him
and try to kill him! if the house would take fire, or a riot begin in
the street! The old man finished his reading, congratulated the poet,
blessed the pair in the old-fashioned style, informed his wife of the
date of the wedding, and marched off to bed. After pulling at that door
for years it was maddening to have the very frame-work come out as if
cemented with butter. What an outrage to come prepared for heroic
action, and to find the enemy turned friend! Oh, admirable enchantress
was this Anne Dillon!

The enchantress, having brought Grahame into line and finally into good
humor, took up the more difficult task of muzzling her stubborn son. To
win him to the good cause, she had no hope; sufficient, if he could be
won to silence while diplomacy shaped the course of destiny.

"Better let me be on that point," Arthur said when she made her attack.
"I'm hostile only when disturbed. Lord Conny owns us for the present. I
won't say a word to shake his title. Neither will I lift my eyebrows to
help this enterprise."

"If you only will keep quiet," she suggested.

"Well, I'm trying to. I'm set against alliance with England, until we
have knocked the devil out of her, begging your pardon for my frankness.
I must speak plainly now so that we may not fall out afterwards. But
I'll be quiet. I'll not say a word to influence a soul. I'll do just as
Ledwith does."

He laughed at the li