Lydia appeared to be considering his question with some seriousness.
"Why, Jim," she said, looking straight up into his eyes with the innocent candor he had loved in her from the beginning, "Mr. Elliot will expect to marry us."
"That"s so!" conceded Jim; "Fan will expect it, too."
He looked at her eagerly:
"Aren"t you in a hurry for that wonderful brother-in-law, Lydia?
Don"t you think--?"
The smile on her face was wonderful now; he felt curiously abashed by it, like one who has inadvertently jested in a holy place.
"Forgive me, dearest," he murmured.
"If you would like--if it is not too soon--my birthday is next Sat.u.r.day. Mother used to make me a little party on my birthday, so I thought--it seemed to me--and the roses are all in bloom."
There was only one way to thank her for this halting little speech: he took her in his arms and whispered words which no one, not even the crickets in the hedge could hear, if crickets ever were listeners, and not the sole chorus on their tiny stage of life.