“I’ll ask him to be best man,” said her lover promptly. “As for our crimes, I’ll tell you, darling of my heart; let’s turn over a new leaf and live straight and happy ever after.” “Let’s,” agreed Darcy with a sigh of happiness. Half an hour later Tom Harmon and Gloria outside heard music, the cradling measures of the little song, and crept to the door hand in hand. They caught the mention of Boulder Brook and shamelessly listened. The pair within were already future-building on Tom Harmon’s property. “And we’ll get on that same train right after the wedding,” said Remsen. “And get off at Weirs,” added the prospective bride. “And have the festive native there to meet us with ‘th’ ole boat.’” “And take that awful, bumpy road slower than we did before.” “And go straight to the Farmhouse—” “I’m sorry, children,” the rightful owner of the coolly appropriated property broke in upon their dreams; “but you can’t have the Farmhouse.” “Oh!” said Darcy, hastily moving north-by-west on the piano seat. “That’s taken,” explained Harmon, beaming upon Gloria, “for another couple.” “Heaven bless ’em!” said Jack heartily. “Thank you! You,” concluded their past and future host, “may have the Bungalow.” CHAPTER XX SOMEWHERE in Siberia, quite unaware of his activities as an absentee Cupid, Sir Montrose Veyze, of Veyze Holdings, Hampshire, England, with a spread of huge composition planes where his dovelike wings should have been, and a quick-firer at his side in place of bow and quiver, reached out of his aeroplane for the long-overdue mail and read with languid surprise an invitation to be present at the marriage of Miss Darcy Cole to Mr. Jacob Remsen, in New York City, New York, on the preceding Christmas day. “Now, where the dayvle,” puzzled Sir Montrose Veyze as he rose into the clouds “did I ever know those people?” THE END