“I marry Rossie! Absurd! Why, I would as soon think of marrying my sister,” and Everard laughed merrily at the idea. “Such a thing is possible,” returned the doctor, “though your father might object on the score of family, if that brother is such a scamp. I imagine he is rather proud; your father, I mean,—not that brother.” “Rossie’s family is well enough for anything I know to the contrary,” said Everard. “Father would not object to that, though he is infernally proud. He is a South Carolinian, born in Charleston, and boasts of Southern blood and Southern aristocracy, while mother is a Bostonian, of the bluest dye, and both would think the Queen of England honored to have a daughter marry their son. Nothing would put father in such a passion as for me to make what he thought a _mesalliance_.” “Yes, I see, and yet——” The doctor did not finish the sentence, but looked instead down into the garden where Josephine was flitting among the flowers. “Miss Fleming is a very beautiful girl,” the doctor said, at last, and Everard responded heartily: “Yes, the handsomest I ever saw.” “And rumor says you two are very fond of each other,” was the doctor’s next remark, which brought a blush like that of a young girl to Everard’s cheek, but elicited no reply, for there was beginning to dawn upon his mind a suspicion that his inmost secrets were being wrung from him by this smooth-tongued stranger, who, quick to detect every fluctuation of thought and feeling in another, saw he had gone far enough, and having learned all he cared to know, he arose to go, and after a good morning to Everard and a few soft speeches to Josephine, walked away and left the pair alone. CHAPTER III. THE MOCK MARRIAGE. The long hall, or rather ball-room, of the old Eagle tavern was crowded to its utmost capacity, for the entertainment had been talked of for a long time, and as the proceeds were to help buy a fire-engine, the whole town was interested, and the whole town was there. First on the programme came tableaux and charades, interspersed with music from the glee club, and music from the Ellicott band, and then there was a great hush of expectation and eager anticipation, for the gem of the performance was reserved for the last. Behind the scenes, in the little anterooms where the dressing, and powdering, and masking, and jesting were all going on promiscuously, Josephine Fleming was in a state of great excitement, but hers was a face and complexion which never looked red or tired. She was, perhaps, a shade paler than her wont, and her eyes were brighter and bluer as she stood before the little two-foot glass, giving the last touches to her bridal toilet.