"By the way the blessed young things laughed at the word '_butterfly_'. So I wanted you to know that my intentions are tragically serious, no matter what others may say. Whatever I may be, and I have been insulted more than once about my figure and my habits, I am _not_ a flirt. I am just as romantic as if I was a living skeleton." Here Arthur's head went back, and he laughed till the tears came. And Mr. Langham couldn't help laughing, too. A few moments later he was going over The Inn books with Maud Darling and displaying for her edification an astonishing knowledge of entries and a truly magical facility in figuring. Suddenly, apropos of something not in the least germane, he said: "Miss Maud, when in your opinion is the most opportune time for a man to propose to a girl?" "When he's got her alone," said she promptly, "and has just been dazzling her with a display of his erudition and understanding." And she, whom Mary had described as the one steady sister in the lot, flung him a melting and piercing glance. But Mr. Langham was not deceived. "I ask you an academic question," he said, "and you give me an absolutely cradle-snatching answer. I may _look_ easy, Miss Maud, but there are people who will protect me." "The best time to propose to a girl? You really want to know? I thought you were just starting one of your jokes." "If I am," said he, "the joke will be on me. But I _really_ want to know." "The best moment," said she, "is that moment in which she learns that one of her friends or one of her sisters younger than she is engaged to be married. When an unengaged girl hears of another girl's engagement she has a momentary panic, during which she is helpless and defenseless. That is my best judgment, Mr. Sam Langham. And the older the girl the greater the panic. And now I've betrayed my sex. In fact, I have told you absolutely all that is definitely known about girls." Just outside the office he met Gay. "Halloo!" she said. He only made signs at her and flapped his arms up and down. "_They_ can't talk," he said. "Who can't talk?" He held her with a stern glance, and if the word had been hissable, would have hissed it. "Butterflies," he said. Then Miss Gay turned the color of a scarlet maple in the fall of the year. Then she squealed and ran. XVII "Are we all here?" asked Mary. She had summoned her sisters and Arthur to the office for a conference. "All except Sam Langham," said Gay. "I didn't know that he was one of the family," said Mary. "Of course, you _know_," said Gay; "you would. _I_ was just guessing." "Well, he isn't," said Mary, trying not to change color or to enjoy being teased about Mr. Langham. The triplets sat in a row upon a bench made of little birch logs with the bark on. It was not soft sitting, as Lee whispered, but one had one's back to the light, and in case one had done something wrong without knowing it and was in for a scolding, that would prove an immense advantage.