Isn’t that all right?
Clara.
Right? It would be the death of me, if I were not soon your wife. But you don’t know my father. He doesn’t know why we’re in a hurry. He can’t know, and we can’t tell him. And he’s told me a hundred times that he will only give me, as he puts it, to a man who has both love in his heart and bread in his cupboard. He will say, “Wait a year or two, my son,” and then what will you answer?
Leonard.
Why, you little silly, that difficulty’s all over. I’ve got the job, I’m cashier now.
Clara.
You’re cashier? And what about the other candidate, the parson’s nephew?
Leonard.
He came drunk into the exam., bowed to the stove instead of to the mayor, and knocked three cups off the table when he sat down. You know how hot-tempered the old boy is. “Sir!” he began, but he bit his lips and controlled himself, although his eyes flashed through his spectacles like two snakes ready to spring, and all his face was working. Then came the arithmetic and ha! ha! my opponent used a system of tables he had invented himself, and got quite original results. “He’s all astray,” said the mayor, and held out his hand to me with a glance that told me the job was mine. I put it reverently to my lips, although it stank of tobacco, and here’s the appointment, signed and sealed.
Clara.