"Who?"
"We. We--us."
"What do you mean?"
"Ruth and I want to get married."
Mr. Heywood frowned again and blinked, as if to summon his wandering
wits, undecided whether to believe or doubt his eyes and ears. His
thoughts, barely returned from China, seemed unequal to a sudden grasp
of the situation.
"What are you saying?"
"I am saying that Ruth and I want to get married."
"Whose idea is this?"
"Mine," said Ruth.
As the father met the earnest eyes of his daughter he almost smiled.
"Where did you get such an idea, Ruth?"
"From seeing the people you married this morning. You said marriage was
a beautiful thing."
"So it is. So it is. But that was very different. Only grown people
marry, so run away, children. I have no time for play this morning."
And he turned away and sat down at his desk.
"But, Mr. Heywood," said Cyrus, "this is not play. This is important."
"Important? Why important, Cyrus?"
"'Cause Ruth wants it."
This time Mr. Heywood smiled. "That's a good sentiment, Cyrus. It shows
a kind regard for the lady. But run away, both of you. I am very busy
this morning."
"But, Mr. Heywood," said Cyrus, "what's Ruth done that she should be
punished and not have what she wants, and wants ever so much?"
"How punished?"
"By not getting what she wants."
"And what do you say she wants?"
"Me."