His
mother was a Randolph, my child, which is greatly to his credit. As for
Dan, I fear he will make anything but a safe husband."
"Safe!" exclaimed Betty indignantly, "did you marry the Major because he
was 'safe,' I wonder?"
Mrs. Lightfoot accepted the rebuke with meekness.
"Had I done so, I should certainly have proved myself to be a fool," she
returned with grim humour, "but since you have fully decided that you
prefer to be miserable, I shall take you with me tomorrow when I go for
Dan."
But on the morrow the old lady did not leave her bed, and the doctor, who
came with his saddlebags from Leicesterburg, glanced her over and ordered
"perfect repose of mind and body" before he drank his julep and rode away.
"Perfect repose, indeed!" scoffed his patient, from behind her curtains,
when the visit was over. "Why, the idiot might as well have ordered me a
mustard plaster. If he thinks there's any 'repose' in being married to Mr.
Lightfoot, I'd be very glad to have him try it for a week."
Betty made no response, for her throat was strained and aching; but in a
moment Mrs. Lightfoot called her to her bedside and patted her upon the
arm.
"We'll go next week, child," she said gently. "When you have been married
as long as I have been, you will know that a week the more or the less of a
man's society makes very little difference in the long run."
And the next week they went. On a ripe October day, when the earth was all
red and gold, the coach was brought out into the drive, and Mrs.
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