“Well,” she said, “I was thinking just this.  We can give it to him as a wedding present—­we’ve got him there, don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t see,” he replied.  “Will you kindly show me how you work that out.  He’ll probably want to give you a Murillo and a town house and a Cellini service, and a motor car upholstered in cloth of gold, a Florentine bust and an order on Raphael to paint your portrait.  If you ask me if I see him accepting the Vandyke as a wedding present from us—­I don’t.”

“Goose!” she said with withering scorn.

He laughed.  “Oh, very well, I’m back in the barnyard, so I don’t mind.  Just a minute ago and you had me a duck.  I’ve lost caste—­I was a mandarin then.”

“I didn’t say a wedding present for our wedding, did I?” she inquired loftily.  “Why don’t you stop and think a minute.  They don’t teach observation in college, evidently.”

Teddy was nonplussed.  “You’ve got me,” he said, his brows drawn together in a puzzled frown.

She tapped her foot impatiently.  “Well, how else could we be giving him a wedding present?” she inquired.

“That’s just what I don’t see,” he replied emphatically.

“When he gets married, of course—­heavens! you are dense!”

Teddy was stunned.  “When he—­why—­what nonsense!—­he’s a confirmed old bachelor.  There!  I knew you couldn’t think out problems when I was kissing you.  I’m glad you didn’t answer my second question, if that’s the way you work things out.  Who in the world would he marry!”

“How would you like him for a step-father-in-law?” She looked at him with an amused smile.

“Good gracious!” he exclaimed.  “Why, I never thought of that!  Your mother!—­Oh, by golly! that’s great, that’s great!  Of course, of course.  Here, I’ll kiss you again—­you can answer my second question.”  He embraced her with hysterical enthusiasm.  “Oh, when did it happen?” he begged.  “How did you know?  Since when have they been engaged?  My!  I have been a bat!  Where were my eyes?  Of all the jolly luck!” he leaped from the bench and executed a triumphal war dance.

“You act just like the kids—­I mean, the baby goats, up in the Bronx,” she laughed.  “Teddy, stop, somebody might see you, and they’d send us both to an asylum.  Stop it!  And besides, my step-father hasn’t proposed yet.”

Teddy ceased his gambols abruptly.  “What in the world have you been telling me, then?” he demanded, crestfallen.  “Here I’ve been celebrating an event that hasn’t happened.”

“Well, it’s going to,” she affirmed with an impressive nod of her head. “I know.  Why, even Mother hasn’t the slightest idea of it yet.  Poor, dear Mother, she’s so really humble minded, she wouldn’t let herself realize how he loves her.  But she leans on him, on the very thought of him.  When we were away recuperating, she used to watch for his letters—­like—­like—­I watched for yours, Teddy; and when I’d hand her