Stella's eyes looked up at mine, deep and happy below their twinkle, and we boarded the train. The train started, it left New York behind, it ran into the suburbs, then into the country, and at last the hills began to mount beside the track, and a cooler, fresher air to come in through the windows. Still her eyes smiled into mine, but she said little, save now and then to lean forward and whisper, "Is it true, John, is it true?" So we came to Bentford station, in the early dusk of evening, and the air was good as we alighted, and the silence. Suddenly Buster appeared, undulating with joyous yelps along the platform, and sprang at Stella's face. He almost ignored me. Peter was waiting with the buggy. We sat him between us and drove home. "Home--your home, our home," I whispered, pressing her hand behind Peter's back. "Sold a lot o' peas and things," said Peter. "I got 'em all down in the book. Gee, I drove over 'most every day, an' I'm goin' to be on the ball team in the village, an' I wanter join the Boy Scouts, but ma won't let me 'less you say it's all right, an' ain't it?" "We'll think it over, Peter," said I. Stella was bouncing up and down on the seat with excitement as the buggy rattled over the bridge. Lamplight was streaming from Twin Fires. On the kitchen porch stood Mrs. Pillig, dressed in her best, and Mrs. Bert and Bert. As we climbed from the buggy, Bert raised his hand, and a shower of rice descended upon us. Stella ran up the path, and Mrs. Bert's ample arms closed about her. Both women were half laughing, half crying, when I got there with the grips. "Ain't that jest like the sex?" said Bert, with a jerk of his thumb--"so durn glad they gotter cry about it!" "You shet up," said Mrs. Bert. "For all _you_ know, I'm pityin' the poor child!" Mrs. Pillig had an ample dinner ready for us, with vegetables and salad fresh from the garden, and, as a crowning glory, a magnificent lemon pie. "This is much better than anything at Sherry's," cried Stella, beaming upon her. We sat a long while looking at each other across the small table, and then we wandered out into the dewy evening and our feet took us into the pines, where in the darkness we stopped by a now sacred spot and held each other close in silence. Then we went back into the south room. "Oh, if the curtain stuff would only hurry up and come!" cried my wife. "You must learn patience--Mrs. Upton," said I, while we both laughed sillily over the title, as others have done before us, no doubt. Presently Mrs. Pillig's anxious face appeared at the door. She seemed desirous of speaking, and doubtful how to begin. "What is it, Mrs. Pillig?" I asked. "Well, sir," she said, hesitantly, "I suppose now you are married you won't need me, after all." She paused. "I rented my house," she added. "Need you!" I cried. "Why now I shall need you more than ever!"