“Yes,” replied the major, “and this government can’t see or won’t see that even in the matter of women’s clothes it would pay in the end to bring over every frill and tuck free of duty until our dressmakers here had caught on to their tricks.  Then we could pay them back in their own coin.  But, no; and the consequence is that we shall be dependent on France for our best clothes for generations more.”

“It does seem such a pity,” said Mrs. Carroll.  “It would be so nice to have Ina’s things made in Paris if it didn’t cost anything to get them over here—­wouldn’t it?”

“I would just as soon have my dresses made in Banbridge,” said Ina.  “Madame Griggs is as good as a French dressmaker.”

“She is fine,” said Charlotte.

Ina blushed as the major looked at her with a look that penetrated the dusk.  Very soon Marie appeared in the doorway, and they went into dinner.

“How lucky it is that Anderson does not object to trusting us and we can have canned soup and pease,” whispered Mrs. Carroll to Anna.

It was a very good dinner at last, and the guest was evidently hungry, for he did justice to it.  There were no apologies for the delay.  Carroll did not believe in apologies for such things.  There was a salad from their own garden, and a dessert of apple-pudding from an early apple-tree in the grounds.  The coffee was good, too.  There was no lack of anything which could be purchased at the grocery.

“That grocer must be a very decent sort of man as grocers go,” Mrs. Carroll was fond of remarking in those days.  “I really don’t know what we should do if it were not for him.”

After dinner was over it was nearly nine o’clock; Carroll and Major Arms walked up and down the road before the house, smoking, leaving the ladies on the porch.  The ex-army officer had something which he wished to discuss with his prospective father-in-law.  He opened upon the subject when they had gone a piece down the flagged sidewalk and turned towards the house.

“What kind of arrangements have the ladies planned with regard to”—­he hesitated and stammered a bit boyishly, for this was his first matrimonial venture, and he felt embarrassed, veteran in other respects as he was—­“to the—­ceremony?” he finished up.  Ceremony did not have the personal sound that marriage did.

Carroll looked at him, smiling.  “It is quite a venture for you, old fellow, isn’t it?” he said, laughingly, and yet his voice sounded exceedingly kind and touched.

“Not with that child, Arthur,” replied the other man, simply.

“Well, Ina is a good girl,” assented Carroll.  “Both of them are good girls.  She will make you a good wife.”

“Nobody knows how sure I am of it, and nobody knows how I have looked forward to this for years,” said the other, fervently.

“I could not wish anything better for my girl,” said Carroll, gently and soberly.

“What about the matter of the—­ceremony?” asked Arms, returning to the first subject.