It was late that afternoon that Lucinda, looking as if she had been accidentally overtaken by a road-roller, joined Joshua in the potato cellar.

"Well, the sky c'n fall whenever it likes now!" she said, sitting down on an empty barrel with a resigned sigh.

"That's a comfort to know," said Joshua.

"She's got it all made up for 'em to marry each other."

"That ain't no great news to me," said Joshua.

"Joshua Whittlesey, you make my blood boil. Things is goin' rackin' and ruinin' at a great pace here an' you as cold as a cauliflower over it all."

Joshua sorted potatoes phlegmatically and said nothing.

"S'posin' I'd 'a' wanted to marry him?"

Joshua continued to sort potatoes.

"Or, s'posin' you wanted to marry her?"

Joshua looked up quickly.

"Which one?" he said.

"Janice!"

"Oh," he said in a relieved tone.

"Why did you say 'oh,'-did you think I meant her?"

"I didn't know who you meant."

"Why, you wouldn't think o' marryin' her, would you?"

"No," said Joshua emphatically. "I'd as soon think o' marryin' you yourself."

Lucinda deliberated for a minute or so as to whether to accept this insult in silence or not, and finally decided to make just one more remark.

"I wonder if she'll send any word to Arethusa 'n' Mary."

"They'll know soon enough," said Joshua oracularly.

"How'll they know, I'd like to know?"

"You'll write 'em."

Lucinda was dumb. The fact that the letter was already written only made the serpent-tooth of Joshua's intimate knowledge cut the deeper.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - GRAND FINALE

She has it all made up for him to marry her, and she is certainly as happy as she is and he is themselves. She is making plans at a great rate and she has consented to have her wedding here because she wants to be there herself. The day is set for Thanksgiving and the Lord be with us for everything has got to be just so and she is no more good at helping now that he's come. They are all going back to New York as soon as possible after it's over and I hope to be forgiven for stating plainly that it will be the happiest day'

of my life.

Respectfully,

L. COOKE.

Upon receipt of this astounding news Arethusa took the train and flew to the scene where such momentous happenings were piling up on one another.

Her arrival was unexpected and the changes which she found ensued and ensuing were of a nature bewildering in the extreme. Aunt Mary had quit her regime of soup and sleep and was not only more energetically vigorous as to mind than ever, but strengthening daily as to bodily force. It might have been the excitement, for Burnett was there, Clover was _en route_, and Mitch.e.l.l was expected within twenty-four hours. Other great changes were visible everywhere. A corps of servants from town had fairly swamped Lucinda and twenty carpenters were putting up an extra addition to the house in which to give the wedding room to spread. Nor was this all, for Aunt Mary had turned a furniture man and an upholsterer loose with no other limit than that comprised by the two words "_carte blanche_."

Mrs. Rosscott still continued to wait upon Aunt Mary, but another maid had arrived to await upon Mrs. Rosscott. The latter had shed her black uniform and bloomed forth in rose-hued robes. Mr. Stebbins was kept on tap from dawn to dark and the checks flowed like water. Emissaries had been despatched to New York to buy the young couple a suitable house and furnish that also from top to bottom.

"Well, Arethusa," the aunt said to the niece when they met the morning after her arrival, "I'm feelin' better 'n I was last time you were here."

"I'm so glad," yelled Arethusa.

"They'll live in New York and I'll live with them. As far as I've seen there ain't no other place on earth to live. I'm goin' to get me a coat lined with black-spotted white cat's fur and have my gla.s.ses put on a parasol handle, and I'm going to have the collars and sleeves left out of most of my dresses an' look like other people. I'm a great believer in doin' as others do, an' Jack won't ever have no cause to complain that I didn't take easy to city life."

Arethusa felt herself dumb before these revelations.

Later she was conducted to see the wedding presents, which were gorgeous.

Among them was the biggest and brightest of crimson automobiles; and Mitch.e.l.l, who had presented it, had christened it beforehand "The Midnight Sun." Aunt Mary's gift was the New York house and money enough for them to live on the income.

"I know you're able to look out for yourself," she told the bride, "but I don't want Jack to have to worry over things at all, and, although I know it's a good habit, still I shouldn't like to have him ever work so hard that he wouldn't feel like goin' around with us nights. Not ever. Not even sometimes."

Mitch.e.l.l was overjoyed at the way things had turned out.

"My dear Miss Watkins," he screamed, when he was ushered into Aunt Mary's presence, "who could have guessed in the hour of that sad parting in New York that such a glad future was held in store for us all!"

"I didn't quite catch that," Aunt Mary exclaimed, rapturously, "but it doesn't matter-as long as you got here safe at last."

"Safe!" exclaimed the young man; "it would have been the very refinement of cruelty if my train had smashed me on this journey."

Burnett was equally happy.

"I suppose it will be up to me to give you away," he said to his sister; "before all these people, too. What a mean trick!"

Jack had thought that he would like to have Tweedwell marry him, as that young man had put in the summer vacation getting ordained. Tweedwell accepted-although he had just taken charge of a living in Seattle and came through on a flyer which arrived two hours before _the_ hour. Some fifty or sixty of the guests came in on the same train, and Burnett and Clover met them all at the cars and made the majority comfortable in the different hotels and honored the minority with Aunt Mary's hospitality.

The day was gorgeous. The addition to the house was done and lined with white and decorated in gold. An orchestra was ensconced behind palms just as orchestras always covet to be and a magnificent breakfast had been sent up from the city in its own car with its own service and attendants to serve it.

There was only one hitch in the entire programme. That was that when they got to the church Tweedwell did not show up. Jack was distressed even though Mrs. Rosscott laughed. Mitch.e.l.l wanted to read the ceremony, but Aunt Mary was afraid it wouldn't be legal, and Mr. Stebbins agreed with her. In the end the regular clergyman married them; and just as they were all filing out they met Tweedwell and Lucinda tearing along, he in his surplice and she in the black silk dress which Aunt Mary had given her in celebration of the occasion. They were both too exhausted to be able to explain for several minutes; but it finally came out (of Lucinda) that Burnett, whose place it was to have overseen officiating Tweedwell, had forgotten all about him, and the poor fellow, exhausted by his long journey, had never awakened until Lucinda, going in to clear up his room, had let forth a piercing howl of surprise.