"You have made a mistake, sir, and my mother has made a mistake, too. It is quite true she may have seen me kissing Miss—Miss—Carrie, in fact. But I hope to have the right to kiss her. I want to marry her."
"To marry this—this—"
"This beautiful young girl, whom nobody has a word to say against," interrupted Max, in a louder voice. "Come, sir, you can't say I'm at my old tricks now. I've never wanted to marry any girl before."
For the moment Mr. Wedmore was stupefied. This was worse, far worse than he had expected. Mrs. Wedmore, also, was rather shocked. But the sensation, was tempered, in her case, with admiration of her boy's spirit in daring to make this avowal.
"Mind, I only say I want to marry her. Because, so far, she has refused to have anything to say to me."
"Not refused to marry you!" broke in Mrs. Wedmore, unable to remain quiet under such provocation as this.
"Yes, refused to marry me, mother. I have asked her—begged her."
"Oh, it's only artfulness, to make you more persistent," cried Mrs. Wedmore, indignantly.
"Or perhaps," suggested Mr. Wedmore, in his driest tones, "the girl is shrewd enough to know that I should cut off a son who was guilty of such a piece of idiocy and leave him to his own resources."
Max said nothing for a moment; then he remarked, quietly: