“Well, Dave, you’ve got your wife well trained already!” he laughed, concluding it was best to put a smiling front upon the defeat. “She knows just when to come in and help when your side’s getting weak!” They served cake and raspberry vinegar then, and a little while after everybody went home. It was later than the hours usually kept in the village, and the lights in most of the houses were out, or burning dimly in upper stories. The voices of the guests sounded subdued in the misty waning moonlight air. Marcia could hear Hannah Heath’s voice ahead giggling affectedly to Harry Temple and Lemuel Skinner, as they walked one on either side of her, while her father and mother and grandmother came more slowly. David drew Marcia’s hand within his arm and walked with her quietly down the street, making their steps hushed instinctively that they might so seem more removed from the others. They were both tired with the unusual excitement and the strain they had been through, and each was glad of the silence of the other. But when they reached their own doorstep David said: “You spoke well, child. You must have thought about these things.” Marcia felt a sob rising in a tide of joy into her throat. Then he was not angry with her, and he did not disapprove as the two aunts had done. Aunt Clarinda had kissed her good-night and murmured, “You are a bright little girl, Marcia, and you will make a good wife for David. You will come soon to see me, won’t you?” and that had made her glad, but these words of David’s were so good and so unexpected that Marcia could hardly hide her happy tears. “I was afraid I had been forward,” murmured Marcia in the shadow of the front stoop. “Not at all, child, I like to hear a woman speak her mind,—that is, allowing she has any mind to speak. That can’t be said of all women. There’s Hannah Heath, for instance. I don’t believe she would know a railroad project from an essay on ancient art.” After that the house seemed a pleasant place aglow as they entered it, and Marcia went up to her rest with a lighter heart. But the child knew not that she had made a great impression that night upon all who saw her as being beautiful and wise. The aunts would not express it even to each other,—for they felt in duty bound to discountenance her boldness in speaking out before the men and making herself so prominent, joining in their discussions,—but each in spite of her convictions felt a deep satisfaction that their neighbors had seen what a beautiful and bright wife David had selected. They even felt triumphant over their favorite Hannah, and thought secretly that Marcia compared well with her in every way, but they would not have told this even to themselves, no, not for worlds. So the kindly gossipy town slept, and the young bride became a part of its daily life. CHAPTER XIII