“And when you have a set of furniture, it makes me nervous not to have it set together,” Aunt Julia went on determinedly. “And I will _not_ have a woman smoking in my house! “And oh, Carrie, if you knew how I suffered with that dirty darky girl!” “But--but, Aunt Jule, why didn't you--” “You see, Carrie and Lizzie, it was this way,” said Mr. Bean soothingly. “Your aunt and I got talking old times, and we found that we both felt about the same. And after we'd looked the old house over together a day or two, she couldn't seem to leave it, somehow, and she couldn't live in it alone, and I always wanted it. “So I said, 'If you'll just step over to the parson's, across the street, with me, we'll fix this all right in about ten minutes. You've known me ever since I was a boy, and I've known you, and it's nobody's business but ours if we want to finish up together.' I may have said a few other things, too, but that's neither here nor there. And when she said what would the girls do, I told her that what with the full price of their interest in the farm, and her third that she could add to it--for a sort of wedding-present, you see--I didn't see but what you could well afford to take a trip to Europe and stay about as long as you liked--she said you wanted to do that more than anything; though why I don't know--Connecticut ought to be good enough for anybody!” They sank upon the porch steps, sincerely overcome. “I knew you'd like it when you came to know it all,” said Aunt Julia placidly. “He's the kindest man--” And to their excited eyes the very tidies on the geometrically arranged chairs, the bright rag rugs on the floor, the biscuits and preserves consecrated to their New England tea, yes, even the insistent shirt-sleeves of Cousin Lorando Bean, were lighted by a halo of content. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Julia The Apostate, by Josephine Daskam