Lavender and Old Lace [50]
have that than to have us, if they were permitted to choose."
"Do you suppose they'll give us anything?"
"Let us hope not."
"I don't believe we want any at all," she said. "Most of them would be in bad taste, and you'd have to bury them at night, one at a time, while I held a lantern."
"The policeman on the beat would come and ask us what we were doing," he objected; "and when we told him we were only burying our wedding presents, he wouldn't believe us. We'd be dragged to the station and put into a noisome cell. Wouldn't it make a pretty story for the morning papers! The people who gave us the things would enjoy it over their coffee."
"It would be pathetic, wouldn't it?"
"It would, Miss Thorne. I think we'd better not tell anybody until its all safely over, and then we can have a little card printed to go with the announcement, saying that if anybody is inclined to give us a present, we'd rather have the money."
"You're a very practical person, Carl. One would think you had been married several times."
"We'll be married as often as you like, dear. Judging by your respected aunt, one ceremony isn't 'rightfully bindin', and I want it done often enough to be sure that you can't get away from me."
As they entered the gate, Uncle James approached stealthily by a roundabout way and beckoned to them. "Excuse me," he began, as they came within speaking distance, "but has Mis' Ball give you furniture?"
"Yes," replied Ruth, in astonishment, "why?"
"There's clouds to starboard and she's repentin'. She's been admirin' of it the hull mornin' in the attic. I was sot in the kitchen with pertaters," he explained, "but the work is wearin' and a feller needs fresh air."
"Thank you for the tip, Uncle," said Winfield, heartily.
The old man glowed with gratification. "We men understand each other," was plainly written on his expressive face, as he went noiselessly back to the kitchen.
"You'd better go home, dear," suggested Ruth.
"Delicate hint," replied Winfield. "It would take a social strategist to perceive your hidden meaning. Still, my finer sensibilities respond instantly to your touch, and I will go. I flatter myself that I've never had to be put out yet, when I've been calling on a girl. Some subtle suggestion like yours has always been sufficient."
"Don't be cross, dear--let's see how soon you can get to the bottom of the hill. You can come back at four o'clock."
He laughed and turned back to wave his hand at her. She wafted a kiss from the tips of her fingers, which seemed momentarily to impede his progress, but she motioned him away and ran into the house.
Aunt Jane was nowhere to be seen, so she went on into the kitchen to help Uncle James with the potatoes. He had peeled almost a peck and the thick parings lay in a heap on the floor. "My goodness'" she exclaimed. "You'd better throw those out, Uncle, and I'll put the potatoes on to boil."
He hastened out, with his arms full of peelings. "You're a real kind woman, Niece Ruth," he said gratefully, when he came in. "You don't favour your aunt none--I think you're more like me."
Mrs. Ball entered the kitchen with a cloud upon her brow, and in one of those rare flashes of insight which are vouchsafed to plodding mortals, a plan of action presented itself to Ruth. "Aunty," she said, before Mrs. Ball had time to speak, "you know I'm going back to the city to-morrow, and I'd like to send you and Uncle James a wedding present--you've been so good to me. What shall it be?"
"Well, now, I don't know," she answered, visibly softening, "but I'll think it over, and let you know."
"What would you like, Uncle James?"
"You needn't trouble him about it," explained his wife. "He'll like whatever I do, won't you, James?"
"Yes'm, just as you say."
After dinner, when Ruth broached the suliject of furniture, she was gratified to find that Aunt Jane had no serious objections. "I kinder hate to part with it, Ruth," she said, "but in a way, as you may say, it's yours."
"'Tisn't like giving it away, Aunty--it's all in the family,
"Do you suppose they'll give us anything?"
"Let us hope not."
"I don't believe we want any at all," she said. "Most of them would be in bad taste, and you'd have to bury them at night, one at a time, while I held a lantern."
"The policeman on the beat would come and ask us what we were doing," he objected; "and when we told him we were only burying our wedding presents, he wouldn't believe us. We'd be dragged to the station and put into a noisome cell. Wouldn't it make a pretty story for the morning papers! The people who gave us the things would enjoy it over their coffee."
"It would be pathetic, wouldn't it?"
"It would, Miss Thorne. I think we'd better not tell anybody until its all safely over, and then we can have a little card printed to go with the announcement, saying that if anybody is inclined to give us a present, we'd rather have the money."
"You're a very practical person, Carl. One would think you had been married several times."
"We'll be married as often as you like, dear. Judging by your respected aunt, one ceremony isn't 'rightfully bindin', and I want it done often enough to be sure that you can't get away from me."
As they entered the gate, Uncle James approached stealthily by a roundabout way and beckoned to them. "Excuse me," he began, as they came within speaking distance, "but has Mis' Ball give you furniture?"
"Yes," replied Ruth, in astonishment, "why?"
"There's clouds to starboard and she's repentin'. She's been admirin' of it the hull mornin' in the attic. I was sot in the kitchen with pertaters," he explained, "but the work is wearin' and a feller needs fresh air."
"Thank you for the tip, Uncle," said Winfield, heartily.
The old man glowed with gratification. "We men understand each other," was plainly written on his expressive face, as he went noiselessly back to the kitchen.
"You'd better go home, dear," suggested Ruth.
"Delicate hint," replied Winfield. "It would take a social strategist to perceive your hidden meaning. Still, my finer sensibilities respond instantly to your touch, and I will go. I flatter myself that I've never had to be put out yet, when I've been calling on a girl. Some subtle suggestion like yours has always been sufficient."
"Don't be cross, dear--let's see how soon you can get to the bottom of the hill. You can come back at four o'clock."
He laughed and turned back to wave his hand at her. She wafted a kiss from the tips of her fingers, which seemed momentarily to impede his progress, but she motioned him away and ran into the house.
Aunt Jane was nowhere to be seen, so she went on into the kitchen to help Uncle James with the potatoes. He had peeled almost a peck and the thick parings lay in a heap on the floor. "My goodness'" she exclaimed. "You'd better throw those out, Uncle, and I'll put the potatoes on to boil."
He hastened out, with his arms full of peelings. "You're a real kind woman, Niece Ruth," he said gratefully, when he came in. "You don't favour your aunt none--I think you're more like me."
Mrs. Ball entered the kitchen with a cloud upon her brow, and in one of those rare flashes of insight which are vouchsafed to plodding mortals, a plan of action presented itself to Ruth. "Aunty," she said, before Mrs. Ball had time to speak, "you know I'm going back to the city to-morrow, and I'd like to send you and Uncle James a wedding present--you've been so good to me. What shall it be?"
"Well, now, I don't know," she answered, visibly softening, "but I'll think it over, and let you know."
"What would you like, Uncle James?"
"You needn't trouble him about it," explained his wife. "He'll like whatever I do, won't you, James?"
"Yes'm, just as you say."
After dinner, when Ruth broached the suliject of furniture, she was gratified to find that Aunt Jane had no serious objections. "I kinder hate to part with it, Ruth," she said, "but in a way, as you may say, it's yours."
"'Tisn't like giving it away, Aunty--it's all in the family,