"Oh, Max, please," I said.
"Will you marry me, Sue?" demanded Max sternly. "If you will
agree, I'll go to Halifax and beard the lion in his den
unflinchingly. If necessary, I will take a black street cat to
Aunt Cynthia, and swear that it is Fatima. I'll get you out of
the scrape, if I have to prove that you never had Fatima, that
she is safe in your possession at the present time, and that
there never was such an animal as Fatima anyhow. I'll do
anything, say anything--but it must be for my future wife."
"Will nothing else content you?" I said helplessly.
"Nothing."
I thought hard. Of course Max was acting abominably--but--but--
he was really a dear fellow--and this was the twelfth time--and
there was Anne Shirley! I knew in my secret soul that life would
be a dreadfully dismal thing if Max were not around somewhere.
Besides, I would have married him long ago had not Aunt Cynthia
thrown us so pointedly at each other's heads ever since he came
to Spencervale.
"Very well," I said crossly.
Max left for Halifax in the morning. Next day we got a wire
saying it was all right. The evening of the following day he was
back in Spencervale. Ismay and I put him in a chair and glared
at him impatiently.
Max began to laugh and laughed until he turned blue.
"I am glad it is so amusing," said Ismay severely. "If Sue and I
could see the joke it might be more so."
"Dear little girls, have patience with me," implored Max.
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