Asher Ferry turned to summon his butler.
“Take your hand off that button!”
Asher did so.
Once off the steps, Marvin started for the iron gates. But his heart was thumping so hard that he had to sit down on a carved bench in the midst of ghostly bushes. As he sat there, a car from the house passed him. It was slipping away through the night with a note addressed to Chase Mahan, Esq. The note was brought to that person in his study, and read as follows:
Sir:
I guess your son is about as bad as you are. He has been to my house this evening. He says he is going to ask my daughter to marry him. That won’t do.
Yours truly,
Asher Ferry.
The reader’s brows drew together, and the long smooth central portion of his countenance settled back within the muscles of his jaw, leaving the lips undisturbed.
He came and laid the note in the hand of his wife, who read it with quiet eyes.