"
"Does he still want you to marry him?" asked Rilla.
"Oh, yes. He implored me in his letter to run away and be married. But I
cannot do that, Rilla, not even for Joe. My only comfort is that I will
be able to see him for a little while tomorrow afternoon. Father has to
go to Charlottetown on business. At least we will have one good farewell
talk. But oh--afterwards--why, Rilla, I know father won't even let me
go to the station Friday morning to see Joe off."
"Why in the world don't you and Joe get married tomorrow afternoon at
home?" demanded Rilla.
Miranda swallowed a sob in such amazement that she almost choked.
"Why--why--that is impossible, Rilla."
"Why?" briefly demanded the organizer of the Junior Red Cross and the
transporter of babies in soup tureens.
"Why--why--we never thought of such a thing--Joe hasn't a license--I
have no dress--I couldn't be married in black--I--I--we--you--you--"
Miranda lost herself altogether and Sir Wilfrid, seeing that she was
in dire distress threw back his head and emitted a melancholy yelp.
Rilla Blythe thought hard and rapidly for a few minutes. Then she said,
"Miranda, if you will put yourself into my hands I'll have you married
to Joe before four o'clock tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh, you couldn't."
"I can and I will. But you'll have to do exactly as I tell you."
"Oh--I--don't think--oh, father will kill me--"
"Nonsense.
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