A brilliant thought struck me as I looked at my wife. “I have a solution of the whole business.” I stepped to the door. “James, stop that hammering a minute.” James, who had resumed his task of nailing fast the sashes, stopped. I returned again to Ethel. “I think that I can work on that novel that Scribman wants just as well here as in the city. What do you say to our staying up here all winter so as to keep Minerva?” “Oh, you treasure of an idea-haver,” said Ethel, rushing at me and kissing me right before everybody. “But would James let her work?” said Cherry. “That remains to be seen,” said I. “Let’s see it now.” We all trooped out into the kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Tom, the Benedicts, Jack and Billy, Sibthorp and Hepburn and Cherry by herself. She had avoided Billy all the morning but as he had told me the news I knew it was all right with them. As we entered the kitchen James was walking toward the north window and Minerva was walking toward the south. Both of them were looking very unconcerned. If I had been making a picture of it I should have called it “After the Salute.” “James,” said I, “I congratulate you on the news that Mrs. Vernon has just brought me, although we’ll hate to give Minerva up. In fact we want to know whether if we decided to stay here all winter you could not attend to the Boardman green house and let Minerva do our cooking? You could live here, you know.” James’ handsome face became occupied with a smile of great dimensions. “I reckon I could do that, all right, sir. What do you say, Minervy?” Minerva simpered. “I’d like nothin’ better than to work for you all winter up here. I was thinkin’ it would be awful lonesome after you left.” James looked as if he thought this only half a compliment but Ethel felt it was a very sincere one. “Oh, you dear good thing,” said my wife, and I was reminded of the day that Minerva promised to go up to the hated country. “James,” said I, “there’ll be no need to postpone your wedding day.” Minerva giggled. James looked me in the eye. Then he picked up the hammer and going over to the window he drew out the nails he had just driven in. They would not be needed now that we were going to stay. “Mr. Vernon,” said he, “’member that day we went to Springfiel’?” Minerva giggled harder, sunk her head in her shoulders, and put her hand before her face. “Yes, I remember,” said I, wondering what was coming. “Well, we got married that day.” “Is that so, Minerva?” said Ethel. “Yas’m,” said Minerva. [Illustration]