Witness to the Deed Part 12

"Then you do give me some hope?" cried Barron excitedly.

"No, I did not, sir. I'm out of soundings here. No; hang it, I meant to say, sir, in shoal water. Hang it, man, I don't want the child to think about such things for years."

"Sir Mark, your daughter must be twenty."

"Eh? Twenty? Humph! Well, I suppose she is."

"There is no hurry, sir. Let matters go on as they are, only let it be an understood thing that you do, say in a latent may, encourage my suit."

"No, sir; I'll bind myself to nothing; I--Oh, hang it all, man, why did you spoil a pleasant trip like this?"

"Spoil it, Sir Mark? Have some compa.s.sion for the natural feelings of a man thrown into the society of so sweet a girl as--"

"That will do, sir; that will do," cried the admiral, frowning. "There; I'm not going to quarrel with you, Mr Barron. I was young once myself.

I was a good sailor, I'm told, but this sort of thing is out of my lat.i.tude. If my poor wife had lived--Phew! it's growing hot, isn't it?

Thunderstorm, I suppose."

"I'm very sorry, Sir Mark."

"So am I, sir," said the admiral. "There's an end to our trip."

"Sir Mark! Don't talk like that. I'll leave the hotel to-morrow. I would not on any consideration--"

"That will do, Mr Barron; that will do. I'm a man of few words, and what I say I mean. This can go no further here."

"You don't mean that you will go away?"

"Back to England, sir, and home as fast as I can."

"But my proposal, sir?"

"I have a sister there, sir, my counsellor in all matters concerning my two girls."

"But you will give me leave to call--in England?"

"Tchah, man! You'll forget it all in a month."

Barron smiled.

"You will give me leave to call at your house?"

"As a gentleman, sir, I can hardly refuse that."

Barron smiled and bowed.

"I see, sir. I have been too hasty, Admiral Jerrold. I ask you as a favour, if you do carry out your hasty decision, to make some inquiries respecting Mr Barron of Trinidad."

"I shall, sir, of course," said the admiral. "You'll excuse me now; I'm going to join my niece and daughter."

He left the veranda gallery, puffing heavily at his cigar, while Barron stood watching him.

"Hit or miss?" he muttered. "Hit, I think, and game worth bringing down. She's cold. Well, naturally, I don't think I managed it so badly, after all."

"Oh, here's uncle," said Edie half an hour later as she saw the big, burly figure of the old sailor approaching. "Oh, you dear, good old uncle. Come and sit down here, and you can see the colour changing on the ice peaks."

"No, no, no. Come back, girls, and pack up. We're off by the first train to-morrow."

"Where to now, papa?"

"Bourne Square, W., my dear, as soon as we can get there. Come along!"

"Myry--Mr Barron pa.s.sed as we came into the hotel, and only raised his hat."

"Have papa and he had some misunderstanding over the cards?"

"Perhaps: over the hearts."

"Edie!" cried Myra, colouring. "What do you mean?"

"He has been proposing for you, and uncle said no; and now he is going to carry us off home to be safe."

"Proposed for me," said Myra thoughtfully, and in the most unruffled way, as her eyes a.s.sumed a dreamy, wondering look.

"Of course, and you love him dearly, don't you?"

"I? Oh, no," said Myra calmly.

"What a strange girl she is!" thought Edith that night as she went to bed.

And Myra said to herself again calmly and thoughtfully: "Proposed for me. Perhaps Edie is right. But how strange!"

CHAPTER EIGHT.

STRATTON'S DECISION.

"Yes, sir, it's done," said Mrs Brade, looking sadly in at the doorway on the left side of the fire; "and I hope it will turn out all right, but my experience of pipes is that they always busties in the winter, and drowns all your neighbours out on the next floor."

"Well, I hope this will be an exception," said Stratton, laughing.

"I hope so, too, sir, but it's no laughing matter, and for my part-- though, of course, gentlemen have a right to do as they like--I think there is nothing like a big, flat, zinc bath painted oak out, and white in, set on a piece of oilcloth in a gentleman's bedroom. Then you've your big sponge, and a can of water. No trouble about them getting out of order."

"But the trouble, Mrs Brade," said Stratton. "No filling; no anything."

"No, sir, of course not; but you're always at the mercy of the plumbers; and if these men don't always leave their work so that it'll make another job before long, I'm not a Christian woman."

"Oh, you object to it because it's new-fas.h.i.+oned," said Stratton merrily.