"She's a pippin, George," he croaked solemnly, whereupon Fay laughed with joy and relief at finding herself, after such critical appraising, so whole-heartedly accepted by this funny, doom-stricken old man.
Mary Judson's manner was, of course, different. She adjusted her spectacles, took the girl's hands timidly but surely in hers and gazed for some time into her engaging countenance, with Fay blushing, smiling and even giggling in her embarrassment.
"Fay, you're a good girl," decided George's mother. "I can see that; and not highty-tighty; but you've got a job on your hands. George has always been a little bit undisciplined. He's spoiled father and me, and of course we've spoiled him. I've known some woman would have to take George in hand and break him to harness like. He's been too successful, George has, and he's stiff in the neck, but he's a well-meaning boy. Don't break his heart when you're domesticating him, so to speak, will you, Fay?"
"Mother! Mother!" protested George laughing, and Fay was laughing also at the coincidence, and wondering if this was the sort of thing that mothers always said to prospective sons-in-law and daughters-in-law. Yet she could not seem to scoff.
"I won't, Mother Judson," she declared and gravely kissed the trembling, wistful lips, but
