Like a fool I overslept myself on the morning you left, so did not get my talk with you.  You know I never get up early, and never can, so you have only your refusal to let me in that night to blame for our not having a last chat.  If I had had the news to tell you that I now have, I should not have let you keep me out, even if you had forced me to break my way in.

Chum, the nicest girl in the world has told me that she loves me, and we are both as happy as happy can be, I know you will not be in a moment’s doubt as to who she is, I have only run down here to break it to my family, and shall go back to the Shrubberies early next week—­to talk to Mr. Pierce, you understand!

My governor has decided that a couple of years’ travel will keep me out of mischief as well as anything else he can devise, and as the prospect is not unpleasant, I am not going to let my new plans interfere with it, merely making my journeyings a solitude a deux, instead of solus.  So we shall be married in September, at the Shrubberies, and sail for Europe almost immediately.

Now, I want you to stand by me in this, as you have in other things, and help me through.  I want you, in short, to be my “best man” as you have been my Best friend.  “Best man,” I should inform you, is an English wedding institution, which our swell people have suddenly discovered is a necessity to make a marriage ceremony legal.  He doesn’t do much.  Holding his principal’s hat, I believe, is the most serious duty that falls to him, though perhaps not stepping on the bridal dresses is more difficult.

    My Mamma wants me to drive with her, so this must be continued in
    our next.

    Aff.,

    W.

Peter did not read law that morning.  But after sitting in his chair for a couple of hours, looking at the opposite wall, and seeing something quite different, he took his pen, and without pause, or change of face, wrote two letters, as follows: 

    Dear Watts: 

You hardly surprised me by your letter.  I had suspected, both from your frequent visits to the Shrubberies, and from a way in which you occasionally spoke of Miss Pierce, that you loved her.  After seeing her, I felt that it was not possible you did not.  So I was quite prepared for your news.  You have indeed been fortunate in winning such a girl.  That I wish you every joy and happiness I need not say.

    I think you could have found some other of the fellows better
    suited to stand with you, but if you think otherwise, I shall not
    fail you.

You will have to tell me about details, clothes, etc.  Perhaps you can suggest a gift that will do?  I remember Miss Pierce saying she was very fond of pearls.  Would it be right to give something of that kind?

    Faithfully yours,