“Doctor,” said Martin, coming in, “this little girl of yours and I have something to tell you!” The old man looked at him sharply, almost sternly, looked about at the girls’ faces, and was silent.  But he tightened his arm about Cherry, who had fluttered to the arm of his chair.

“Are you surprised, Daddy?” Cherry laughed, with all a child’s innocent exultation.  The next instant Anne and Martin were shaking hands, and Alix had enveloped Cherry in an enthusiastic embrace.

“Surprised!” exclaimed Alix.  “Why, aren’t you surprised yourself!”

Her sister flushed exquisitely, and Martin laughed.

“We’re just about knocked silly!” he confessed, and all the girls laughed joyously.

There followed a delighted confusion of talk, when each in turn remembered what she had noticed, what she had suspected, and what her first emotion had been at this moment or that.  Meanwhile a place was made for Martin, and biscuits and omelette and honey and tea were put into brisk circulation.  Cherry left her place beside her father, with a final kiss, and took her own chair, all dimples, flushes, smiles, and shy confidence.

“And what are your plans?” Anne asked maternally, as she poured tea.

Her uncle, who had been silent during the excitement, mildly interposed: 

“I think we needn’t go too fast, young people!  You’ve only known each other a few weeks, after all; you must be pretty sure of yourselves before taking anything like a decisive step.  Plenty of time—­plenty of time.  Mr. Lloyd can go back to his mine, and Cherry will wait for him—­”

Cherry’s wild-rose face coloured, and her whole body drooped.

“But I can be getting ready, and I can tell people, Dad?” she pleaded.

“We’ll see,” her father promised her, soothingly.  He had promised her thus vaguely when, as an imperative baby years ago, she had wanted the impossible.  But she was not a baby now.

“Ah, now—­that won’t do!” she pouted.

“You must give me a little time to get used to the idea of losing my baby, pretty,” her father said.  “I confess that this thing seems to have come upon me rather unexpectedly.  Mr. Lloyd here and I must have some talks about his plans—­”

“I know exactly how you feel, Doctor,” Martin said, sensibly and sympathetically.  “I realize that I should have come to you first, and asked to pay my respects to your daughter—­laugh, why don’t you?” he added to Alix, from whom an abrupt and startling laugh had indeed escaped in good-natured scorn.

“Nobody does that any more!” the girl said, in self-defence.  “It sounded so old-fashioned!”