"Your stock sold? Oh, grandfather!" cried Iris; "and you did not tell me! And I have been so happy." "Friend," said Lala, "was it well to hide this from me?" "Foolish people," Mr. Emblem went on, "have spread reports that I am rich, and have saved money for Iris. It is not true, Mr. Arbuthnot. I am not rich. Iris will come to you empty-handed." "And as for me, I have nothing," said Arnold, "except a pair of hands and all the time there is. So we have all to gain and nothing to lose." "You have your profession," said Iris, "and I have mine. Grandfather, do not fear, even though we shall all four become poor together." It seemed natural to include Lala Roy, who had been included with them for twenty years. "As for Iris being empty-handed," said Arnold, "how can that ever be? Why, she carries in her hands an inexhaustible cornucopia, full of precious things." "My dear," said the old man, holding out his arms to her, "I could not keep you always. Some day I knew you would leave me; it is well that you should leave me when I am no longer able to keep a roof over your head." "But we shall find a roof for you, grandfather, somewhere. We shall never part." "The best of girls always," said Mr. Emblem; "the best of girls! Mr. Arbuthnot, you are a happy man." Then the Sage lifted up his voice and said solemnly: "On her tongue dwelleth music; the sweetness of honey floweth from her lips; humility is like a crown of glory about her head; her eye speaketh softness and love; her husband putteth his heart in her bosom and findeth joy." "Oh, you are all too good to me," murmured Iris. "A friend of mine," said Mr. Emblem, "now, like nearly all my friends, beneath the sod, used to say that a good marriage was a happy blending of the finest Wallsend with the most delicate Silkstone. But he was in the coal trade. For my own part I have always thought that it is like the binding of two scarce volumes into one." "Oh, not second-hand volumes, grandfather," said Iris. "I don't know. Certainly not new ones. Not volumes under one-and-twenty, if you please. Mr. Arbuthnot, I am glad; you will know why very soon. I am very glad that Iris made her choice before her twenty-first birthday. Whatever may happen now, no one can say that either of you was influenced by any expectations. You both think yourself paupers; well, I say nothing, because I know nothing. But, children, if a great thing happen to you, and that before four-and-twenty hours have passed, be prepared--be prepared, I say--to receive it with moderate rejoicing." "To-morrow?" Iris asked. "Why to-morrow? Why not to-night, if you have a secret to tell us?" "Your father enjoined in his last letter to wait till you were twenty-one. The eve of your birthday, however, is the same thing as your birthday. We will open the papers to-night. What I have to tell you, Iris, shall be told in the presence of your lover, whatever it is--good or bad."