The man, quickly on his feet at her entrance, gave her a lover's ardent¹ kiss; but almost instantly he held her off at arms' length.

 

"Why, dearest, what's the matter?" he demanded.

 

"W-what do you mean?"

 

"You look as if—if something had happened—not exactly a bad something, but—What is it?"

 

Miss Maggie laughed softly.

 

"That's one of the very nicest things about you, Mr. Stanley-G.-Fulton-John-Smith," she sighed, nestling comfortably into the curve of his arm, as they sat down on the divan;—"that you NOTICE things so. And it seems so good to me to have somebody—NOTICE."

 

"Poor lonely little woman! And to think of all these years I've wasted!"

 

"Oh, but I shan't be lonely any more now. And, listen—I'll tell you what made me look so funny. I've had a letter from Flora². You know I wrote them—about my coming marriage."

 

"Yes, yes," eagerly. "Well, what did they say?"

 

Miss Maggie laughed again.

 

"I believe—I'll let you read the letter for yourself, Stanley. It tells some things, toward the end that I think you'll like to know," she said, a little hesitatingly, as she held out the letter she had brought into the room with her.

 

"Good! I'd like to read it," cried Fulton, whisking the closely written sheets from the envelope.

 

MY DEAR MAGGIE (Flora had written): Well, mercy me, you have given us a surprise this time, and no mistake! Yet we're all real glad, Maggie, and we hope you'll be awfully³ happy. You deserve it, all right. Poor Maggie! You've had such an awfully hard time all your life!

 

Well, when your letter came, we were just going out to Jim's for an old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner, so I took it along with me and read it to them all. I kept it till we were all together, too, though I most bursted with the news all the way out.

 

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