The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 11, No. 68, June, 1863: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
Science
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 11, No. 68, June, 1863: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
"How will we settle?"
"Aw--throw for it?"
"Yes. Isn't there a backgammon board forward, in that locker, Thomas?"
The board was found, and the dice produced.
"The highest takes which?"
"Say, Laura Thurston."
"Very good; throw."
"You first."
"No. Go on."
Charley threw, with about the same amount of excitement he might have
exhibited in a turkey-raffle.
"Five-three," said he. "Now for your luck."
"Six-four! Laura's mine. Satisfied?"
"Perfectly,--if you are. If not, I don't mind exchanging."
"Oh, no. I'm satisfied."
Both reclined upon the deck once more, with a sigh of relief, and a long
silence followed.
"I say," began Charley, after a time, "it is a comfort to have these
little matters arranged without any trouble, eh?"
"Y-e-s."
"Do you know, I think I'll marry mine?"
"I will, if you will."
"Done! it is a bargain."
This "little matter" being arranged, a change gradually took place in
the relations of the four. Ned Salisbury began to invite Laura Thurston
out driving and in bathing somewhat oftener than before, and Hattie
Chapman somewhat less often; while Charley Burnham followed suit with
the last-named young lady. As the line of demarcation became fixed, the
damsels recognized it, and accepted with gracious readiness the
cavaliers that Fate, through the agency of a chance-falling pair of
dice, had allotted to them.
The other guests of the house remarked the new position of affairs, and
passed whispers about, to the effect that the girls had at last
succeeded in getting their fish on hooks instead of in a net. No suitors
could have been more devoted than our friends. It seemed as if each now
bestowed upon the chosen one all the attentions he had hitherto given to
both; and whether they went boating, sketching, or strolling upon the
sands, they were the very picture of a _partie carrée_ of lovers.
Naturally enough, as the young men became more in earnest, with the
reticence common to my sex, they spoke less freely and frequently on the
subject. Once, however, after an unusually pleasant afternoon, Salisbury
ventured a few words.
"I say, we're a couple of lucky dogs! Who'd have thought, now, aw, that
our summer was going to turn out so well? I'm sure I didn't. How do you
get along, Charley, boy?"
"Deliciously. Smooth sailing enough. Wasn't it a good idea, though, to
pair off? I'm just as happy as a bee in clover. You seem to prosper,
too, heh?"
"Couldn't ask anything different. Nothing but devotion, and all that.
I'm delighted. I say, when are you going to pop?"
"Oh, I don't know. It is only a matter of form. Sooner the better, I
suppose, and have it over."
"I was thinking of next week. What do you say to a quiet picnic down on
the rocks, and a walk afterward? We can separate, you know, and do the
thing up systematically."
"All right. I will, if you will."
"That's another bargain. I notice there isn't much doubt about the
result, though."
"Hardly!"
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