"Let me hear it," asked Mr. Hart, secretly pleased at the young man's ill-humour.
"You associated my Margaret's name--"
"Your Margaret!" exclaimed Mr. Hart. "My Margaret, if you please!"
"Mine!" cried Philip, in a loud voice.
"Mine!" echoed Mr. Hart, in a calmer tone.
"Call her down and ask her!" demanded Philip in his rashness, without considering; and, for the life of him, Mr. Hart could not help laughing long and heartily.
"O that you were twenty years younger!" said Philip.
"O that I were!" exclaimed Mr. Hart, with grave humour. "Then you would really have cause for uneasiness when you hear me call her mine."
"How do you make her yours?"
"I stand to her in the light of a father," replied Mr. Hart more seriously. "When I persuaded her mother in town to let her accompany us, I promised that I would look after her and protect her. Therefore she is mine, because I am her father."