My cheerful, almost sprightly manner, at breakfast on the morning of Aunt Sophy's wedding-day cost me an effort, for instead of being able to make Marion a present of Waydean, as I had planned, I was compelled to conceal the depression I felt at the news from my agent that Peter had sold the place to the "other party," Roper's client. I noticed, during breakfast, that Marion and Aunt Sophy were continually exchanging confidential smiles and glances that were not intended to include me, for they looked consciously unconscious and avoided my eyes when I happened to intercept one of the silent messages. Still, I was so engaged in looking happy and free from care that the idea of Marion having prepared a surprise for me never entered my mind, although I wondered, when she handed me my mail which William had brought from the post-office, why they both stared at me with such an appearance of eager expectation. At the bottom of the pile my eye was attracted by an envelope with, "Bates and Roper, Land Agents," printed in one corner. It was addressed to Marion, and as I held it up inquiringly she clapped her hands with delight and urged me with impatient vehemence to read it. With a sickening premonition of what was coming I drew out the enclosure with trembling fingers and read a formal notification from the firm to Mrs. Henry Carton that they had, according to instructions, made an agreement with Peter Waydean for the purchase of his farm for the sum of five thousand, one hundred dollars. For a moment I forgot Marion and Paul and Aunt Sophy as I stared at the paper with open mouth and distended eyes, a ghastly gray-green pallor, so Marion told me afterwards, spreading over my face. A smothered shriek of alarm and the first strident prolonged note of Paul's howl brought me to my senses; my eyes turned slowly with the glassy stare of an owl. I had a jumbled idea that Marion's money was gone, also mine, also the farm; we had been bidding against each other and were ruined. "What is it, Henry?" gasped Aunt Sophy, pressing one hand to her side and breathing heavily. "Speak, Henry!" cried Marion. "We've been sold--buncoed--duped. Old Peter--" I began thickly. "You goose!" exclaimed Marion, with a laugh of sudden relief. "You misunderstand the letter. Of course old Peter has sold the place, but to me!--to _me_--do you understand? And I hereby make you a present of it to-day, because----" "Because it's my wedding-day," interjected Aunt Sophy, wiping away tears of happiness. "I thought I'd like to see how pleased and proud you'd look before I go." I awoke to my responsibilities and made a sickly attempt to look gratified. "What a--joyful surprise!" I stammered. "Awfully obliged--not so much for--pecuniary value--as a token of--the day that--" My voice was lost in a peal of laughter. "Oh, how funny! Just like your Uncle Philip, Marion."