"Haven't I? Well, then, darling, I'll ask it now. No, no what nonsense! Bagshaw can't see under the rug, and I can hold the ponies perfectly with one hand: give it me! So; and now about papa; what do you think? what do you advise?"
"I--I think he won't make any fuss, James; he's always fall of your praises, and he's not like those horrid fathers in books, who never will let their daughters marry the people they love--I didn't mean to say that--I meant the people who love them! But I think I'd speak to him after dinner."
"After dinner?"
"Yes, you know, when you're left alone together. He's pleasanter then, I think. And then you can come to me in the drawing-room and tell me all about it."
Mr. Murray received James Prescott with the greatest cordiality; and when dinner was over, and the cloth was removed, the old gentleman instructed Banks the butler to bring up a bottle of the '20 and some devilled biscuits. Banks, an old and faithful retainer, muttered something in his master's ear as to what Dr. Harwood had said; on which his master told him to go to the devil, and mind his own business. So the '20 was brought; and Miss Murray had half a glass, and then retired to the drawing-room; and Mr. Murray bade his guest pull his chair round to the fire and prepare for serious drinking.
Then James Prescott knew that the crisis of his fate was approaching, so he filled a bumper of port, drank half of it, looked the old gentleman steadily in the face, and said, "I wanted to speak to you, sir."
"All right!" said the old gentleman, helping himself; "speak on."
"About your daughter, Miss Murray, sir," said Prescott, beginning to feel himself all aglow,--"about Miss Murray, sir."
"All right!" said the old gentleman, with perfect calmness--"what about her?"
"Well, sir--I--the truth is--that I--I've formed an attachment to her, sir--she's--she's a most delightful girl, sir," said Prescott, falling into hopeless bathos at once.