Wayland, interrupting, caught at his father"s hand and wrung it frenziedly. "I"m glad--"
"Here! Here!" A look of pain covered the father"s face. "That"s the fist she put in the press."
They all laughed at his joke, and then he gravely resumed. "I say I admire her, but it"s a shame to ask such a girl to marry an invalid like you. Furthermore, I won"t have her taken East. She"d bleach out and lose that grip in a year. I won"t have her contaminated by the city." He mused deeply while looking at his son. "Would life on a wheat-ranch accessible to this hotel by motor-car be endurable to you?"
"You mean with Berea?"
"If she"ll go. Mind you, I don"t advise her to do it!" he added, interrupting his son"s outcry. "I think she"s taking all the chances." He turned to Mrs. McFarlane. "I"m old-fashioned in my notions of marriage, Mrs. McFarlane. I grew up when women were helpmates, such as, I judge, you"ve been. Of course, it"s all guesswork to me at the moment; but I have an impression that my son has fallen into an unusual run of luck. As I understand it, you"re all out for a pleasure trip. Now, my private car is over in the yards, and I suggest you all come along with me to California--"
"Governor, you"re a wonder!" exclaimed Wayland.
"That"ll give us time to get better acquainted, and if we all like one another just as well when we get back--well, we"ll buy the best farm in the North Platte and--"
"It"s a cinch we get that ranch," interrupted Wayland, with a triumphant glance at Berea.
"Don"t be so sure of it!" replied the lumberman. "A private car, like a yacht, is a terrible test of friendship." But his warning held no terrors for the young lovers. They had entered upon certainties.
THE END