"Just a moment, my daughter." Leaving the door wide, Mrs. Milo came fluttering back. "It really didn't surprise me," she declared, with a wise nod at Balcome. "I half guessed a marriage." "Hope for the worst!" mocked Clare. Sue came in, with a quick look around. "Are you ready to go, mother?" "You bet, mother is _not_ ready to go,"--this Clare, under her breath. "My dear," said her mother, sweetly, "we have called you in to tell you some good news." Sue smiled. "I could manage to bear up under quite a supply of good news." Farvel was brushing at his eyes. His face was averted, but she guessed that he had been crying. "First of all, Susan, Miss Crosby is----" "Now, mother, does Miss Crosby want----" "Wa-a-ait! Please! It is something she wishes you to know.--Am I right?" This with that characteristic smile so wholly muscular. "Right as the mail!" assured Clare, ironically again, and borrowing an expression learned from Hull. "Ah! Thank you!--Susan, Miss Crosby is not Miss Crosby at all. She is married.--I'm so glad your husband has found you, my dear." "Found? You--you don't mean----" There was a frightened look in Sue's eyes. Her mother misunderstood the look. "Yes, lucky Mr. Farvel," she said, beaming. Then with precision, since Sue seemed not to comprehend, "Mrs.--Alan--Farvel." "I--see." "Didn't I practically guess that Mr. Farvel was married?" "Married,"--it was like an echo. "And I was right!" "Yes, mother,--yes--you're--you're always right." "Mr. Farvel, we congratulate you!--Don't we, dear?" "Congratulations." Something in Sue's face made Farvel reach out his hand to her. She took it mechanically. Thus they stood, but not looking at each other. Once more Mrs. Milo was playfully teasing. "Why shouldn't we all know that you had a wife?" she twittered. It was as if she had added, "You bad, bad boy!" "Yes," said Sue. "Why not? Rectors do have them. There's no canon against it." She laughed tremulously, and dropped his hand. Clare tossed her head. "There ought to be!" she declared. At that, Mrs. Milo threw out both arms dramatically. "Oh! Oh, dear!" she cried. "I've just thought of something!" "I'll bet!" Clare turned, instantly apprehensive. "Save it, mother!" begged Sue, eager to avert whatever might be impending; "--save it till we get home. Come! Mr. and Mrs. Farvel will have things to talk over." And to the clergyman, "We'll take Mr. Balcome and go on ahead." "Now wait!" bade Mrs. Milo, gently. "Why are you so impetuous, daughter? Why don't you listen to your mother? Why do you take it for granted that I want to make Mrs. Farvel unhappy?"--this in a chiding aside. "I don't, mother." "Indeed, I am greatly concerned about her. She believed her husband dead, poor girl. And now"--with a sudden, disconcerting turn on Clare--"what about your engagement?"