Page:Middle Aged Love Stories (IA middleagedlove00bacorich).djvu/263



“Why, bless your heart, Lorando, I’m not afraid,” a familiar voice answered; and Aunt Julia appeared before them, cool in blue checked gingham, with an enveloping white apron and familiarly floury hands.

“I’m just beating up some biscuit for tea,” she explained, “but I guess you can shake hands with me, girls”; and as she extended both arms hospitably they saw upon her floured left hand an unmistakable shining gold band.

“Aunt Jule!” they gasped together. “Are you—is it—”

“That’s it exactly,” said Cousin Lorando Bean. “She is. And I hope you’ll congratulate her, girls, though nobody knows better than I what a good housekeeper you’ve lost! I’ll tell you the facts of the matter, and you can judge for yourself. If ever two people were made for each other, those two are your Aunt Jule and me. We love the country, and we love this farm, and what’s