“Go away, wife, I know what I’m saying well enough. And let me tell you, sir, that I do not want the honour of your presence in my premises any longer; I don’t allow penniless, good-for-nothing vagabonds to prowl around my house! Come to court my daughter, eh? Ha, ha! Whoever heard of such a thing? What next, I wonder?”
“I do not come to court your daughter, sir; I come to claim her as my——”
“Capital! capital! To claim her as your——Ah, ah! capital! capital! Who ever heard of such impudence in all their life?” said Sir Andrew, dancing about like a half-crazed monkey. “Get out of my house, sir, I tell you for the last time—get out, or I’ll kick you out!”
And acting up to his words, he was about to put his threat into execution, when Fanny, his daughter, rushed upon the scene, blooming in paints, crinoline, and flowers.
“Father, dear, hear me!” she said, falling on her knees between her parent and Phillip. “Hear me, father, dear! Pity me! pardon him if he has offended you! For my sake, forgive—pardon my—my—husband! Father, dear, I—am—his—wife!”
“His what?” gasped Sir Andrew, as if shot, looking first at his daughter and then at Phillip. “His what, did you say?”
“His wife, father dear. Pardon me, I am his wife!”
Sir Andrew looked at Phillip for a moment with an eye full of devilish meaning.
That young gentleman advanced a few steps, and said very coolly,
“Wife! Yes, Sir Andrew, my wife! If you doubt it, read that,” he added, throwing down on the table the marriage certificate.