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The old woman looked at her bright face. Then she put her big hand on the girl's small one. It was trembling. She shook her head. Mima blushed. Bartley went out and sat on the veranda a long time after they were gone. He took in the great expanse of lawn about the house, and the dark background of the pines in the woods beyond.
Between this prince and the throne five lives intervened; those of the Emperor Anko, of the latter's two brothers, Yatsuri no Shiro and Sakai no Kuro, both older than Ohatsuse, and of two sons of the late Emperor Richu, Ichinobe no Oshiwa and Mima. Every one of these was removed from the scene in the space of a few days.
"I doan' see whaih yo' Ha'ison pride is," she said; "co'se, he may be nice enough, but does you want to tell him yes de fust t'ing, so's he'll t'ink dat you jumped at de chanst to git him an' git back in de homestid?" "Oh, mammy," cried Mima; she had gone all white and cold. "You do' know nothin' 'bout his quality. You a Ha'ison yo'se'f.
"Don't let any little folly or pride stand between us," he broke in, drawing her to him. She gave up the struggle, and her head dropped upon his shoulder for a moment. Then she lifted her eyes, shining with tears to his face, and said, "Bartley, it wasn't my pride, it was Mammy Peggy's." He cut off further remarks. When he was gone, and mammy came in after a while, Mima ran to her crying,
Through the long afternoons she would read to him from his favorite books, or would listen to him as he talked of the lands where he had been, and the things he had seen. Sometimes Mammy Peggy grumbled at the reading, and said it "wuz jes' lak' doin' hiahed wo'k," but Mima only laughed and went on.
"Maybe I'm over soon in asking you, Mima dear," he faltered, "but but, I couldn't wait any longer. You've become a part of my life. I have no hope, no joy, no thought that you are not of. Won't you be my wife?" They were pausing at her gate, and she was trembling from what emotion he only dared guess. But she did not answer.
"Then won't you give me a different answer," he said, taking her hand. "I can't, I can't," she cried. "Why, Mima?" he asked. "Because " "Because of the Harrison pride?" "Bartley!" "Your Mammy Peggy has confessed all to me." "Mammy Peggy!" "Yes." She tried hard to stiffen herself. "Then it is all out of the question," she began.
But it was with real sympathy and reverence that he stood with bared head beside the grave of his friend, and the tears that she left fall unchecked in his presence were not all tears of grief. They did not go away from him that afternoon until Mammy Peggy, seconded by Mima, had won his consent to let the old servant come over and "do for him" until he found suitable servants.
I've even tried writing," and here a crimson glow burned in her cheeks, "but oh, the awful regularity with which everything came back to me. Why, I even put you in a story, Mammy Peggy, you dear old, good, unselfish thing, and the hard-hearted editor had the temerity to decline you with thanks." "I wouldn't'a' nevah lef' you nohow, honey." Mima laughed through her tears.
She only returned the pressure of his hand, and drawing it away, rushed into the house. She durst not trust her voice. Bartley went home walking on air. Mima did not go directly to Mammy Peggy with her news. She must compose herself first. This was hard to do, so she went to her room and sat down to think it over.
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