Aunt Lois said cautiously that she didn’t know what he was up to but she sincerely hoped it would be for the best. She said so far as she was concerned she’d never had anything against him, except the way he ran up bills and neglected his children, but she’d always said he’d come through in the long run. At least she hoped so. She said Daisy had always thought the sun rose and set on him, and that was why it seemed a shame, seeing him run around with girls like Bonnie Purdy, who couldn’t be mentioned in the same breath with dear Daisy.

“You’re absolutely right and I’ll shake on it,” Papa agreed solemnly. “You know what’s what, Lois, in spite of being so bullheaded about everything. Yes, sir, I may have had too good a time now and then, but something always held me back from getting in too deep. It was like Daisy was whispering to me, ‘Now, wait a minute, Harry. Think of the kids. Is this the right thing for them?’ And I’d back right down. That’s the way it’s been from the day she died and that’s a fact.”

Aunt Lois pinned the fleur-de-lis pin on her fresh pink poplin dress, and Papa looked at it with moist, sentimental eyes. Suddenly he said, “Tell you what, Lois, I’d better get that watch cleaned and repaired before I give it to you.”

“I can have it done right here, Harry,” Aunt Lois said.

“No, I know a fellow in Cleveland who’ll do it for nothing as a favor to me,” Papa said. “I happen to have done a few favors for him and he’ll be glad to fix it up good as new. The clasp is a little loose, and I wouldn’t want you to lose it.”

“We—ell—”

Aunt Lois reluctantly handed over the watch, which Papa quickly wrapped in the chamois bag and pocketed with a suspicious air of finality. This put a little dampener on the reconciliation, especially since Papa immediately left the house, whistling “The Whistler and His Dog” as he jauntily stepped down the walk. Aunt Lois looked moodily after him.

“I don’t know what’s got into him to be so darn tickled with himself,” she observed, and repeated the incident to Mr. Sweeney, later on, over a plate of oysters he had brought from Lesterville.

“Some woman, take my word for it,” said Mr. Sweeney.

This turned out to be the truth. Papa was about to get married. As he frequently boasted later on, the news of the wedding was written up all over the country, in three newspapers to be exact. He had the clippings to prove it. Aunt Lois thought the children should have been invited to the wedding, especially since the bride’s own child by a former marriage would be present; however, it meant railroad tickets and new dresses, so Papa vetoed the suggestion. Besides, the bride said that one child underfoot at a wedding was enough; time enough to take the others on after they were settled. Aunt Lois held out that Florrie at least should go, being Papa’s favorite and a decoration to any gathering, but Papa was too impressed with his new wife’s family to agree. In his preliminary discussions of the marriage he had proudly boasted not of his fiancée’s beauty or virtues but of her folks.