“Come! that’s bad—and mind you, a captain’s pay is not a mine of wealth.”
“She is not extravagant—neither am I—we shall do as well as our neighbours.”
“I hope so,” said the other, dubiously; “but who is she?”
“First of all, promise that you won’t go tearing round the station telling every one.”
“Am I a cackling old woman!” demanded Jack, indignantly.
“Well, you remember when we were quartered at Baymouth—you recollect the two Miss Brownes?”
“Yes, to be sure I do—aunt and niece; aunt, rather ancient, voice like a peacock, smart frocks, pots of money; niece, pretty, and of course, penniless.”
“It’s the niece,” said Tom, almost in a whisper.
“So I should hope. I am glad to find that I have cultivated your taste to some purpose. I wish she had a few thousands and I would give you my consent, and maybe, a wedding present.”
“Your consent is not going to be asked for.”