“That proposal is just what one might expect of you, Cousin Arthur,” said Grandma Elsie, giving him a look of affectionate appreciation; “but are you quite sure it would suit Cal’s convenience, and that of your wife and his?”

“Knowing all three as I do, I can scarcely doubt it,” replied Arthur; “but perhaps I would better consult them before sending the invitation to the Crolys.  I will do so, and you shall hear from me early to-morrow or possibly to-night,” he added.  “Marian, I am sure, will feel very much as I do about it,” he went on presently, “but just now the burden would fall more upon Sister Mary; so that I think I must not give the invitation unless she is entirely willing.”

“Which I feel almost certain she will be,” said Rosie.  “But I will wait to hear from you, Cousin Arthur, before answering my letters.”

“You shall hear at an early hour,” he returned.

“Mary is hoping to have her parents here for the wedding and for a long visit afterward,” remarked Grandma Elsie, “but you have room enough to accommodate both them and the Crolys, I think.”

“Oh, yes!” replied Arthur, “there need be no difficulty about that.  Our house is large and the regular dwellers in it are far less numerous than they were in my young days.  Ah, how widely scattered they are,” he continued half musingly—­“my sisters Isadore and Virginia in Louisiana—­Molly and Dick Percival there too, with Betty and Bob Johnson; my brothers Walter and Ralph—­the one in the army, the other in California.  Sister Ella, the only one near at hand, living at Beechwood; Cal and I the only ones left in the old home.”

“Where you are very happy; are you not?” asked his cousin Elsie in a cheery tone and with an affectionate smile into his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered, returning the smile; “Cal with his charming wife and two dear little children, I with my sweet Marian and a baby boy of whom any father might well be proud and fond.  And I must be going back to them,” he added, rising, and with a hasty good-night to all, he took his departure.

He was scarcely out of sight when the Beechwood and Woodburn carriages turned in at the gates, the one bringing Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Lilburn, the other Captain Raymond, his wife, and his daughters Lucilla and Grace.

All were received with warm and joyous greetings.  They had started out for a drive, met and exchanged salutations, had then decided to call together upon their Ion relatives; a not very unusual proceeding.

And scarcely were they seated when Mr. and Mrs. Leland and Evelyn were seen coming up the drive, having walked over from Fairview, tempted to do so by the beauty of the evening and the prospect of the pleasure of a chat with the very near and dear dwellers in the old home at Ion, who never seemed weary of their companionship, though scarcely a day passed in which they had not more or less of it.

Nor was the communication with Woodburn much less frequent, though it was farther away by a mile or more; for with their abundance of steeds and conveyances of various sorts, it could be traversed with such ease, expedition, and comfort that it seemed little or no inconvenience; the short ride or drive was really a pleasure; though not infrequently it was made a walk when roads were in good condition and the weather was propitious.