"
"Well, I shall be far more proud of it than of any old fossilized
remnant of antediluvial times, I can assure you," was the quick retort.
"And Henry needn't say anything, either, for he walked the coach-aisle a
good half-hour with a crying baby yesterday--to be sure it had a lovely
little mamma, who hadn't an idea how to manage it."
"Yes, it was all for the mamma," assented the professor demurely, with a
twinkle at Molly, who was heartily enjoying the scene, and only
impatient to put in her oar, as now.
"Did you have many engaged couples on the train?" she questioned
wickedly. "I think they're worse than babies--so uninteresting, you
know, besides being oblivious to the point of idiotcy. I've been
_so_ tired picking up after--oh! I nearly forgot myself--I mean
generally speaking, of course."
Sara's face was a study, but one easy to decipher; for the cheeks
crimsoned with embarrassment, the lips quivering with indignation, and
the eyes aglow with a happiness no mortification could conceal, told all
her secret in living characters. Mrs. Macon nearly sprang from her
chair.
"_Who_ is it, Sara? Mr. Garth--Mr. Steene--that little professor of
mathematics with the bald head, or--oh! tell me, _is_ it Mr.
Glendenning?"
"What a wonderful guesser you are!" cried Molly.
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