you to get it there?... All right. Have the boy wait if I'm not there.
Good-by."

His next move was to order a carriage, and have it stop at the florist's
on the way. That done, he consulted his watch. Seventeen minutes of his
precious half-hour were gone. With nervous haste he went into a telephone
booth and called up his own home on the long-distance.

To his relief, his mother answered.

"Is that you, Mother? This is Tryon. Are you all well? That's good. Yes,
I'm in Chicago, but will soon be home. Mother, I've something to tell you
that may startle you, though there is nothing to make you sad. You have
known that there was something on my mind for some time." He paused for
the murmur of assent.

He knew how his mother was looking, even though he could not see her--that
set look of being ready for anything. He wanted to spare her as much as
possible, so he hastened on:

"You remember speaking to me about the ring I wore?"

"Tryon! Are you engaged?" There was a sharp anxiety in the tone as it came
through the hundreds of miles of space.

"One better, Mother. I'm just about to be married!"

"My son! What have you done? Don't forget the honorable name you bear!"

"No, Mother, I don't forget. She's fine and beautiful and sweet. You will