Michael led her into the hall, where the commodore strode up and down, making the old rafters tremble and quake with every tread—puffing—blowing over his fallen hopes, like a nor'-wester over the dead leaves.
Michael advanced, holding the hand of his affianced, and modestly announced their engagement.
"Humph! So the precious business is concluded, is it?"
"Yes, sir," said Michael, with a bow.
"Well, I hope you may be as happy as you deserve! When is the proceeding to come off?"
"What, sir?"
"The marriage, young gentleman?"
"When shall I say, dearest Edith?" asked Michael, stooping to her ear.
"When uncle pleases," murmured the girl.
"Uncle pleases nothing, and will have nothing to do with it, except to advise as early a day as possible," he blurted out; "what says the bride?"