"It is the manse," said Doris, smiling. "It keeps us up, and coming. We have to live up to it."
"It is the manse, partly, perhaps," he said, "but it is mostly—"
"I know—it is mostly father. Nobody could doubt that. Did you ever see a father like him?"
"I never did, and I never saw a Doris like you. Please excuse me, dearest, for making you think of me, when your heart is full of your father, and your sisters, and your manse—but I love you very much. When your father's eyes are strong and well, and when Rosalie has finished college, and when Treasure is really ready for promotionto a captaincy—then will you come and make me happy?"
Doris flushed warmly, and lifted her eyes to his face, looking steadily at him.
"Do not think it is just selfishness, dearest, my trying to intrude on your sacred hour of coming home, but—"
"You could not intrude," she said softly. "For you belong in the home-coming. It would not be coming home at all if you were not here."
Her lips were quivering, and the tears rushed to her eyes as he put his arms around her.
After a time, Zee opened the door and whirled out upon them.
"Mercy!" she said. "I was coming after you. Father wants everybody to be right there every minute."
"I know now there never was any chance for the bishop," said MacCammon, smiling. "Oh, the poor bishop! That bad little Rosalie was just scaring me."
"That bad little Rosalie is turning out to be a great and glorious girl," said Doris proudly."Isn't she? And to think we used to call her the awful Problem of the manse."
"That bad little Rosalie is turning out a perfectly grand and glorious girl because she had a sweet wise sister to solve the awful problems for her. I know, for she told me herself."
Zee, leaning patiently against the wall, held up a respectful hand as though to a teacher in school.
"May I speak now, please? Father wants his General to take charge."
"Zee, I hope you approve of me for a brother-in-law, for it won't do any good if you do not. It is all settled, and you may as well be pleased."
"Oh, Doris," wailed Zee, suddenly tearful. "Not really."
"Why, Zee," cried Doris, shocked at her intensity of grief. "Why, Baby! I will be here a long, long time yet—and never far away."
"Oh, and I haven't a cent to my name. I spent all I had, and all I could borrow, on those curtains in father's room."
"Oh, cheer up—you won't need to buy awedding present yet a while. We won't hurry you. Your I.O.U. is good with us."
"It is not that, goosie," said Zee with lofty scorn. "But Treasure and I bet a dollar on it—and I picked the bishop—I never dreamed that Doris would go back on us preachers—and now I haven't got the dollar."
"Serves you right," said MacCammon grimly. "I am glad you lost. And you can't get a loan out of me. If you had bet on me, I'd give you the dollar and tickled to death."
"Come on back to father," said Zee, struggling heroically to rise to the heights required. "This is father's day. I may be bankrupt, and ruined, and facing degradation, and all that—but I can still scare up a smile for him."
THE END
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