Blith. Sons-in-law!
Fred. Don’t be angry with poor little Lottie!
Blith. Angry with my daughter? What for?
Fred. Why—for what she’s done! Don’t you know all about it?
Blith. No!
Fred. They told me you did!
Blith. Look here, young man—to prevent more mixing we had better begin at the beginning—I am Bosco Blithers—Who the deuce are you?
Fred. Whom should I be but Frederick Bellamy?
Blith. (aside). Lottie’s best glove customer. (Aloud.) Well, what do you want?
Fred. Your consent, it is too late to ask—but your forgiveness you cannot refuse——