Hepburn said nothing. Neither did Sibthorp, but Tom and his wife said that they had been thinking seriously of building a little cottage, and now that we were sure to come back he would surely do it. “I must go and tell Minerva,” said Ethel. “Do you know she is positively blue this morning at the thought of going back. She’ll be glad to know we are coming up next year.” She went to the kitchen and through the door which she left open we heard what followed. “Minerva, I have some good news to tell you.” “Yas’m.” “The Wheelocks are not coming back for a year and we’ll take the house again next summer, so you can come up with us and see more of your friends up here.” Minerva laughed a joyous laugh, and James, who had been nailing fast the kitchen windows, added volume to her laugh in a cachinnation that was brimming over with optimism. “Mrs. Vernon,” said he, dropping his hammer on the floor. “Minervy wanted me to tell you something that she thought might disappoint you.” He laughed again, this time in a conscious way. “Fact is,” said he, “Minervy an’ me has come to an understandin’, an’, an’—an’—we’re go’n’ to git married.” “I’m very glad to hear it,” said Ethel, quickly, “and I don’t mind saying that I’ve been hoping for it. Mr. Vernon is quite sure he can get something for you to do in the city.” “Nothin’ in the city would just suit me, ma’am,” said he, “I wasn’ cut out for the city. I once passed a couple of days in New York and it was all I wanted. Too noisy.” “Oh, you’d git used to that,” said Minerva. “_My_-oh-my, that’s what I like about the city. Ef ’twas noisier here I’d like it a heap better.” “Can’t you postpone your marriage till next summer, James? We can’t get along without Minerva, and we’re coming back here next summer and you could get married then and we’d employ you and probably run a kitchen garden for you to attend to. You see there’ll be a number coming up next summer.” “I dare say I could do that all right next summer but I got a job at the Boardman’s tendin’ to their green house for the winter, an’ Minerva an’ me’s go’n’ to git married just as soon as you leave. She ain’t go’n’ down at all.” Ethel saw it was no use to plead; that Minerva and James were so selfish that they had rather marry and stay up than postpone their marriage the best part of a year in order to enable her to keep a good cook. She left the kitchen and came to me with the news which I had already heard, as I told her. The rest of the party condoled with her. “Isn’t it disheartening,” said she, sinking into a big arm chair disconsolately.