At the Hawkes’s house there were laughter and excitement.  Sally, rosier and more talkative than even Martie had ever seen her before, was the heroine of the hour.  When Martie came in, she flew toward her in an ecstasy, and with laughter and tears the tale was told.  She and Joe had chanced to meet on the Court House steps, Sally coming out from the task of delivering a letter from Pa to Judge Parker, Joe going in with a telegram for Captain Tate.  And almost without words from the lilac-scented, green-shaded street they had gone into the License Bureau; and almost without words they had walked out to find Father Martin.  And now they were married!  And the thin old ring on Sally’s young hand had belonged to Father Martin’s mother.

Martie was too generous not to respond to her sister’s demand, even if she had not been completely carried away by the excitement about her.

Mrs. Hawkes, tears of joy in her eyes, yet smiles shining through them, was brewing tea for the happy pair.  Minnie Hawkes’s Rose was making toast when she was not jumping up and down half mad with delight.  Ellen Hawkes, now Mrs. Castle, was setting the table.  Grandma Kelly was quavering out blessings, and Joe’s older brother, Thomas, who worked at night, and had been breakfasting at four o’clock, when the young pair burst in, rushed out to the bakery to come back triumphantly with a white frosted cake.

“It’s a fair cake,” said Mrs. Hawkes in the babel.  “But you wait—­ I’ll make you a cake!”

“And you know, Joe and I between us just made up the dollar for the license!” laughed Sally.

“Say, listen,” said Ellen suddenly, “you folks have got to take our house for a few days; how about that, Mother?  You and Joe can start housekeeping there like Terry and me.  How about it, Mother?  We’ll come here!”

“But, Sally—­not to tell me!” Martie said reproachfully.

“Oh, darling—­I did that deliberately!” her sister answered earnestly.  “I’m going to telephone Pa, and I know he’ll be wild.  And I didn’t want you to be in it!  You’ll have enough—­poor Martie!”

Already the shadow of the old house was passing from her.  With what gaiety she went about the old room, thought Martie, stopped by Mrs. Hawkes’s affectionate arms for a kiss, stopping to kiss Grandma Kelly of her own free will.  Sally had no sense of social values; she loved to be here, admired, loved, busy.

“Think of the priest giving her his mother’s own ring!” said the women over and over.  “It’ll bring you big luck, Sally!”

They all sat down at the table, and Terry and John Healey came in to rejoice, and the Healey baby awoke, and Grace came in from work.  When Martie left there was talk of supper; everybody was to stay for supper.

Walking home in the late spring twilight, Martie felt a certain satisfaction.  Sally was happy, and they would be good to her, and she would be better off than Lydia, anyway.  Joe as a husband was perfectly absurd, of course, but Joe certainly did love Sally.  Monroe would buzz, but Martie had heard Monroe buzzing for a long time now, and after the first shock, had found herself unhurt.  Curiously, Sally’s plunge into a new life seemed to free her own hands.