"Horatio," said Mrs. Dingley, "I wish you would come into the library for a few minutes. This reminds me of a letter I had to-day from one of your old friends, asking when you were to be at home." The French window closed on the two older people. Juliet, left sitting on the arm of her father's chair, found Anthony behind her. "Do you want to go on a voyage to the Philippines?" he was asking over her shoulder. "I'm not sure just what I do want," she answered rather breathlessly. "The tea-kettle would rust while you were gone." He got no reply. "The dust would grow inches deep on the dining-table we polished so carefully." Juliet rose and walked slowly to the edge of the steps. Anthony followed. "Let's go and walk on the terrace," he proposed, and they ran down to the smooth sward below. It was a warm night, with no dew, and the short-shaven grass was dry. All the stars were out. Anthony walked beside the figure in white, his hands clasped behind his back. "Do white ruffled curtains like those at our windows ever grow musty from being shut up?" he insinuated gently. "I don't know." "Will you write from every port you touch at? It will take a good many letters to satisfy me." "I suppose so." "Suppose what? That you will write?" Juliet stood still. "You're the greatest wheedler I ever saw," she said. "Is that a compliment?" "It's not meant for one. What am I to do when I'm----" "Married to me?--I don't know, poor child. I can only pity you. What do you think the prospect is for me, never to be able to get the smallest concession from you except by every art of coaxing? Yet--if I can get this thing I want, by any means--I warn you I shall not give up until I've seen you sail." "You'll not see me sail." He wheeled upon her. He had her hand in his grasp. "And if you don't go?" "I'll stay." "With me?" She laughed irresistibly. "How could I stay without you?" "Will you marry me before your father goes?" "Oh, Tony, Tony----" "We can't be married without his blessing, can we?" "No--dear father." "Then----" "I'll tell you to-morrow," said she. IX.--A BISHOP AND A HAY-WAGON Juliet Marcy's prospective maid-of-honour found Anthony Robeson's best man at her elbow the moment she entered the waiting-room of the big railway station. Now, although she greeted him with a charming little conscious look, there was nothing either new or singular about the quiet rush he had made across the waiting-room the instant he saw her. The rest of the party of twenty people who were going down into the country to the Marcy-Robeson wedding understood it perfectly, although the engagement had not been announced and probably would not be until Wayne Carey should have an income decidedly larger than he had at present. Judith Dearborn joined the group at once, and Carey reluctantly followed her. Judith had a way of joining groups and of giving her betrothed many impatient half-hours thereby.