BROOME. I ask no questions but I can see a thing or two. Why, sir, it’s as plain to me as if I’d been told that your father’s cut up rough about this.
LEONARD. You’re quite right.
BROOME. He wouldn’t have you marry my gel and like an hon’rable young feller in love—in love mindyer—you ups and you sez: I’ll marry her so’s ’ow. It’s as plain as mud—
LEONARD. It does look like that, doesn’t it?
BROOME. It’s on’y the other day I was readin’ a bit of a novelette in the paper—just to pass the time—and there was a young feller who did just like that and the father says it’s a cut off of a shillin. I said there’s a bit of human natur’ there but I didn’t expect to see it in my own family so soon.
LEONARD. You’re a reader, Mr. Broome.
BROOME. I’ve read a fairish bit, sittin in my keb. Sir, let me tell you—the father in that there novelette come round.
LEONARD. That’s encouraging, Mr. Broome.
BROOME. [Listening.] Is that your mother coming? Give us your hand again. [He hastily takes LEONARD’S hand and poses as MRS. TIMBRELL, MRS. BROOME and MARY enter. He speaks loudly for MRS. TIMBRELL’S benefit.] I accept you, sir, in my family and I honour you for your handsome conduct and hoping the old gentleman will soon come round though, mind you, I ask no questions.
LEONARD. [Retreating.] Very good of you.