"Oh, it's a daughter?" said John, in surprise. "Is she pretty?"
"She is considered to be the prettiest girl in the county."
"Really?" said John. He thought a moment, and added, "Can we stop at a post-office? I must send an important business telegram." He took out a form and wrote:
"Macmacmacmacmac, London. Shall not be back till Wednesday.—BLUNT."
The car stopped and then sped on again.
"Amy has never been any trouble to me," said Mr Masters, "but I am getting old now, and I would give a thousand pounds to see her happily married."
"To whom would you give it," asked John, whipping out his pocket-book.
"Tut, tut, a mere figure of speech. But I would settle a hundred thousand pounds on her on the wedding-day."
"Indeed?" said John thoughtfully. "Can we stop at another post-office?" he added, bringing out his fountain-pen again. He took out a second telegraph form and wrote:
"Macmacmacmacmac, London. Shall not be back till Friday.—BLUNT."