"You want to marry Jane-Ellen?"
"More than I can tell you."
"And what does she say?"
"She likes the idea."
"Bless my soul! you are going to be my brother-in-law."
"No rose without its thorn, I understand."
The situation was too tempting to the boy's love of a joke. He seated himself on the top of the ice-box and folded his arms.
"I do not know," he said, "that I should be justified in giving my consent to any such marriage. Would it tend to make my sister happy? The woman who marries above her social position—the man who marries his cook—is bound to regret it. Have you considered, Mr. Crane, that however you may value my sister yourself, many of your proud friends would not receive her?"
"To my mind, Brindlebury, these social distinctions are very unimportant. Even you I should be willing to have to dinner now and then when we were alone."
"The deuce you would," said Brindlebury, and added, "but suppose my sister's lack of refinement—"