"Certainly, Arnold, you shall do as you like. Mr. Pepperton is a difficult bird to catch, so we hope for you at luncheon, and of course we expect you for dinner." Pepperton looked at me inquiringly. I judged that he had known Miss Octavia a good many years; the tone of their intercourse was intimate; and yet he plainly was at a loss to understand just how I came to be so thoroughly established in her good graces. I confess that as I glance back over these pages it looks odd to me! As I paced the hall waiting for a horse to be saddled, Pepperton led me out on the terrace above the garden. "I'm bursting with a great secret, old man. I'm going to be married." "What!" "I'm going to be married." I grasped a chair to support myself. This was almost too much. Could it be possible that Hezekiah had miscalculated the list of rejections in the silver-bound book, or that Cecilia herself had been deceived? Pepperton misread my agitation, and with a hearty laugh clapped me on the shoulder. "Oh, I'm not intruding on your preserves, old man! Cecilia is the second finest girl in the world, that's all. I'm engaged to Miss Gaylord, of Stockbridge. I 'm telling a few old friends, in advance of the formal announcement to be made next week at a dance the Gaylords are giving." I crushed his hand in both my own, and seeing that he misconstrued the fervor of my emotion I hastened to set myself right. "You're a lucky dog as usual, Pep. But you don't understand about Cecilia Hollister. It's not I; I 'm not in the running at all; but Hartley Wiggins is! I'm here trying to help him score." "What's this? You're here to represent Wiggy?" "Well, he did n't exactly send me here, but when I came I found that Wiggy was n't playing the game with quite the necessary zipology. There's more required than appears,--a little of the dash and snap of the old adventures,--the ready tongue, the eager, thirsty sword!" Pepperton pursed his lips and looked me over carefully with a twinkle in his eye. "You are contributing those elements! You are octaviaized, is that it?" Pepperton laughed until the tears came. "I prefer hollisterized as the broader term. Brother Bassford has it too, and there's always Hezekiah!" "Ah! Hezekiah the unpredictable! I knew there was a skirt fluttering somewhere. I saw her yesterday; stopped to see Bassford, who's a good old chap. Hezekiah of the teasing eyes was whitewashing the chicken-coop, and Michael Angelo could n't have done it better."