Rilla sat down on the lounge beside her . Sir Wilfrid squatted on his haunches before them , with his impertinent pink tongue stuck out , and listened . `` What is the trouble , Miranda ? '' `` Joe is coming home tonight on his last leave . I had a letter from him on Saturday -- he sends my letters in care of Bob Crawford , you know , because of father -- and , oh , Rilla , he will only have four days -- he has to go away Friday morning -- and I may never see him again . '' `` Does he still want you to marry him ? '' asked Rilla . `` Oh , yes . He implored me in his letter to run away and be married . But I can not do that , Rilla , not even for Joe . My only comfort is that I will be able to see him for a little while tomorrow afternoon . Father has to go to Charlottetown on business . At least we will have one good farewell talk . But oh -- afterwards -- why , Rilla , I know father wo n't even let me go to the station Friday morning to see Joe off . '' `` Why in the world do n't you and Joe get married tomorrow afternoon at home ? '' demanded Rilla . Miranda swallowed a sob in such amazement that she almost choked . `` Why -- why -- that is impossible , Rilla . '' `` Why ? '' briefly demanded the organizer of the Junior Red Cross and the transporter of babies in soup tureens .
`` Why -- why -- we never thought of such a thing -- Joe has n't a license -- I have no dress -- I could n't be married in black -- I -- I -- we -- you -- you -- '' Miranda lost herself altogether and Sir Wilfrid , seeing that she was XXXXX dire distress threw back his head and emitted a melancholy yelp .
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