dinner?' he asked restlessly. 'On me. To celebrate.'
'We can't budge,' said Dorothy. 'We've got a phone call in for Paris, France.'
'For Aunt Emily? That where she is? I thought she and Hattie Cox were going around the world.'
'They are,' said Dorothy, 'but Paris is the farthest they've got yet. They're on some kind of an expedition today, because we haven't been able to reach her. The hotel expects her back before midnight.'
'Haven't we time for dinner?'
'Midnight in Paris, France,' Dorothy reminded.
'You mean to tell me Aunt Emily doesn't even Icnow about this?'
'Not yet.' _
'When did this engagement happen? Last night?'
'Since Sunday.' Nan sighed, as if this had been a century.
'I suppose you'll have to let Emily get all the way around the world before the wedding,' he said comfortably.
'No,' said Nan. 'That's just it. Dick and I- want to be married right now. Why not? What have I got to wait for? My job? There are a million stenographers and every single one of them can speU better than I can. Mr. Copeland isn't going to care. I want to be married to Dick—and help him in the vineyards. And that's all on earth I want to do.'
Johnny was astonished. This didn't sound like Nan. Shy Nan, hesitant Nan, Nan unsure of herself. 'Won't that be a Httle rough on Emily?' he said gently, and knew that Dorothy stirred.
'1 don't think so,' cried Nan, 'because HstenI Dick says
we can get married and fly to Europe on our honeymoon. And see Aunt Emily. Wouldn't that please her?'
'Not as a surprise,' said Dorothy quietly. Johnny was startled.
'Your fellow must be in the chips,' he murmured.
'It will be very extravagant,' said Nan serenely, 'but Dick knows Aunt Emily is all I've got—except Dotty, of course. He understands. He's an orphan, too. I think . . .'
'I thought you mentioned his family.'
'Oh, well, there's an uncle and a grandmother. And I guess the uncle's got a wife. I haven't met them yet. There hasn't been time.'
He thought there should have been time. There should have been a lot more time. Nan was speeding and spinning. He wanted to put out both hands and hold her back and slow her down.
Now she said, all sparkling, 'Johnny, you're going to have to stand up with us. You're nearly family, after all these years.'
'I'm going to nm this wedding,' he heard Dorothy say loudly. 'Vm your family, please remember. And we're going to talk to Emily before we plan how or when. So calm downi.'
'Oh, Dot! I'm doing what you want. I'm calling Aunt Emily.'
Johnny perceived the conflict clearly now.
Dorothy changed the subject. 'Going to be home all summer, Johnny? Summer school?'
'Nope. I'll get my doctorate in exactly one more year. Comes out nice and even. I'm stale on biology.'
'Going to work this siunmer, then?'
'Don't know yet. Don't intend to work very hard,' he grinned. 'Maybe Roderick Grimes will have one of his projects for me. They're fun.'
Nan frowned. 'Don't you let him send you off some place,' she said with that gay vehemence so unlike the old Nan. 'At least not this weekendl'
'This weekend!'
'Well, I hope . . .'
'Tou mean to tell me you expect to be a married woman in a matter of days!' he exclaimed. 'I don't believe it. How old are you, baby?'
'I'm twenty,' Nan said defiantly.
'Actually,' said Dorothy dryly, 'she's young enough to wait, don't you think, 'til Emily gets around the world?'
Nan sighed the kind of sigh that announced an old argument come up again. 'I'll just bet Aunt Emily won't make me wait,' she said.
'Nobody would make you/' Dorothy began, and the phone rang.
Nan snatched for it, pinning Johimy Sims in his comer of the couch because the long phone cord crossed his body.
He heard a voice say, 'On your call to Paris, France . . .'
His eyes sought Dorothy's. Dorothy didn't like this speeding and spinning either. He said to Dorothy, 'I hope this chap is over twenty-one.'
'Oh, he is that,' said Dorothy tartly. 'He's thirty-two years old.'
