"Why, then, Mr. Maxfield, I should look for another. If you will give your consent to my engagement to Rhoda, I am not afraid of not finding a place in the world for her. I have a fair share of resolution; I am industrious and well educated; I am not quite thirty years old. If you will give me a word of encouragement I shall be sure to succeed."
"Head-master of Dorrington Proprietary School, eh? Will that be a place like Dr. Bodkin's?"
"Something of that kind, only not so lucrative."
"Dr. Bodkin is thought a good deal of in Whitford."
"Mr. Maxfield, may I hope for a favourable answer from you before I go?"
Old Max struck his hand sharply on the table as he exclaimed, almost with a snarl, "I will not be hurried, sir! nor made to speak rashly and without duly pondering and meditating my words." Then he added, in a different tone, "You are glib, sir! mighty glib! Do you know what Miss Maxfield will have to her portion—if I choose to give it her?"
"No, Mr. Maxfield, I do not. Nor do I care to know. I would take her to my heart to-morrow if she would come, although she were the poorest beggar in the world!"
"And would you take her without my consent?"
"I would, if you had no reasonable grounds for withholding it."
"You would steal my daughter away without my consent?"