“I like her, too, and so will mother when she meets Ruth.  I like her a eap, Bon; she’s a dear.  Now that the job for you is settled—­”

“Eh?” said Lightener.

Hilda smiled at him and amended herself.  “Now that a very good job for you is settled, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do.  First thing, I’m invited to the wedding, and so is mother, and so are some other folks.  I’ll see to that.  It isn’t going to be any justice-of-the-peace wedding, either.  It’s going to be in the church, and there’ll be enough folks there to make it read right in the paper.”

“I’m afraid Ruth wouldn’t care for that,” said Bonbright, dubiously.  “I know she wouldn’t.”

“She’s got to start off right as your wife, Bon.  The start’s everything.  You want your friends to know her and receive her, don’t you?  Of course you do.  I’ll round up the folks and have them there.  It will be sort of romantic and interesting, and a bully send off for Ruth if it’s done right.  It ’ll make her quite the rage.  You’ll see. ...That’s what I’m going to do—­in spite of your mother.  Your wife will be received and invited every place that I am. ...Maybe your mother can run the dowagers, but I’ll bet a penny I can handle the young folks.”  In that moment she looked exceedingly like her father.

“Hilda!” her mother exclaimed again.  “You must consider Mrs. Foote.  We don’t want to have any unpleasantness over this. ...”

“We’ve got it already,” said Hilda, “and the only way is to—­go the limit.”

Lightener slammed the desk with his fist.  “Right!” he said.  “If we meddle at all we’ve got to go the whole distance.  Either stay out altogether or go in over our heads. ...  But how about this girl, Hilda, does she belong?”

“She’s decently educated.  She has sweet manners.  She’s brighter than two-thirds of us.  She’ll fit in all right.  Don’t you worry about her.”

“Young man,” growled Lightener, “why couldn’t you have fallen in love with my daughter and saved all this fracas?”

Bonbright was embarrassed, but Hilda came to his rescue.  “Because I didn’t want him to,” she said.  “You wouldn’t have made me marry him, would you?”

“Probably not,” said her father, with a rueful grin.

“I’m going to take charge of her,” said Hilda.  “We’ll show your mother, Bon.”

“You’re—­mighty good,” said Bonbright, chokingly.

“I’m going to see her the first thing in the morning.  You see.  I’ll fix things with her.  When I explain everything to her she’ll do just as I want her to.”

Mrs. Lightener was troubled; tears stood in her eyes.  “I’m so sorry, Bonbright.  I—­I suppose a boy has the right to pick out his own wife, but it’s too bad you couldn’t have pleased your mother. ...  Her heart must ache to-night.”

“I’m afraid,” said Bonbright, slowly, “that it doesn’t ache the way you mean, Mrs. Lightener.”