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Pierce, you understand!
My governor has decided that a couple of years' travel will keep
me out of mischief as well as anything else he can devise, and as
the prospect is not unpleasant, I am not going to let my new
plans interfere with it, merely making my journeyings a _solitude
a deux_, instead of solus. So we shall be married in September, at
the Shrubberies, and sail for Europe almost immediately.
Now, I want you to stand by me in this, as you have in other
things, and help me through. I want you, in short, to be my "best
man" as you have been my Best friend. "Best man," I should inform
you, is an English wedding institution, which our swell people
have suddenly discovered is a necessity to make a marriage
ceremony legal. He doesn't do much. Holding his principal's hat, I
believe, is the most serious duty that falls to him, though
perhaps not stepping on the bridal dresses is more difficult.
My Mamma wants me to drive with her, so this must be continued in
our next.


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