"That's what I'm hoping," whispered Father. 'That's why I let them have the porch every night!"
"So many days in a row," said Mother. "A girl doesn't go with a nice young man that many times unless he's serious."
"Maybe he'll propose tonight!" was Father's happy thought.
"Hardly so soon. And she is so young."
"Still," he ruminated, "it might happen. It's got to happen, by the Lord Harry."
Grandma chuckled from her corner easy chair. It sounded like someone turning the pages of an ancient book.
"What's so funny?" said Father.
"Wait and see," said Grandma. "Tomorrow."
Father stared at the dark, but Grandma would say no more.
"Well, well," said Father at breakfast. He surveyed his eggs with a kindly, paternal eye. "Well, well, by gosh, last night, on the porch, there was more whispering. What's his name? Isak? Well, now, if I'm any judge at all, I think he proposed to Marianne last night; yes, I'm positive of it!"
"It would be nice," said Mother. "A spring marriage. But it's so soon."
"Look," said Father with full-mouthed logic. "Marianne's the kind of girl who marries quick and young. We can't stand in her way, can we?"
"For once I think you're right," said Mother. "A marriage w
ould be fine. Spring flowers, and Marianne looking nice in that gown I saw at Haydecker's last week."
They all peered anxiously at the stairs, waiting for Marianne to appear.
"Pardon me," rasped Grandma, sighting up from her morning toast. "But I wouldn't talk of getting rid of Marianne just yet if I were you."
"And why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"I hate to spoil your plans," rustled Grandma, chuckling. She gestured with her little vinegary head. "But while you people were worrying about getting Marianne married, I've been keeping tab on her. Seven days now I've been watching this young fellow each day he came in his car and honked his horn outside. He must be an actor or a quick-change artist or something."
"What?" asked Father.
"Yep," said Grandma. "Because one day he was a young blond fellow, and next day he was a tall dark fellow, and Wednesday he was a chap with a brown mustache, and Thursday he had wavy red hair, and Friday he was shorter, with a Chevrolet stripped down instead of a Ford."
Mother and Father sat for a minute as if hit with hammers right behind the left ear.
At last Father, his face exploding with color, shouted, "Do you mean to say! You sat there, woman, you say; all those men, and you--"
"You were always hiding," snapped Grandma. "So you wouldn't spoil things. If you'd come out in the open you'd have seen the same as I. I never said a word. She'll simmer down. It's just her time of life. Every woman goes through it. It's hard, but they can survive. A new man every day does wonders for a girl's ego!"
"You, you, you, you, you!" Father choked on it, eyes wild, throat gorged too big for his collar. He fell back in his chair, exhausted. Mother sat, stunned.
"Good morning, everyone!" Marianne raced downstairs and popped into a chair. Father stared at her.
"You, you, you, you, you," he accused Grandma.
I shall run down the street shouting, thought Father wildly, and break the fire-alarm window and pull the lever and bring the fire engines and the hoses. Or perhaps there will be a late snowstorm and I shall set Marianne out in it to cool.
He did neither. The heat in the room being excessive, according to the wall calendar, everyone moved out onto the cool porch while Marianne sat looking at her orange juice.