In terror Polly fled into my arms. Even when NOT in terror it was
a practice I strongly encouraged.

"We are lost!" she cried. "They will adopt us in spite of
ourselves. They will lock us up for life in Harbor Castle! I don't
WANT to be adopted. I want YOU! I want my little cottage!"

I assured her she should have her little cottage; I had already
bought it. And during the two weeks before the wedding, when I was
not sitting around Boston while Polly bought clothes, we
refurnished it. Polly furnished the library, chiefly with my own
books, and "The Log of the JOLLY POLLY." I furnished the kitchen.
For a man cannot live on honeysuckles alone. My future uncle-in-law
was gentle but firm.

"You can't get away from the fact," he said, that you will be my
nephew, whether you like it or not. So, be kind to an old man and
let him give the bride away and let her be married from Harbor
Castle."

In her white and green High Flier car and all of her diamonds, Mrs.
Farrell called on Polly and begged the same boon. We were too happy
to see any one else dissatisfied; so though we had planned the
quietest of weddings, we gave consent. Somehow we survived it. But
now we recall it only as that terrible time when we were never
alone. For once in the hands of our rich relations the quiet
wedding we had arranged became a royal alliance, a Field of the
Cloth of Gold, the chief point of attack for the moving-picture
men.