“Well?”
“Ned Levi told me in confidence, Frances.”
“Well?” brushing aside this trifling objection.
“There is nothing to prevent a public engagement as soon as ever you like,” said Mr. Johnson with dignity; “and nothing to prevent ’em getting married as soon as they like. I don’t know what we’ve been waiting for.”
“We’ve been waiting for your consent, Mat,” gently.
“They have it; oh, they have it.” Mr. Johnson’s voice blessed the absent pair.
“And what does Sebastian’s father say about Sebastian not taking his money?” asked Mrs. Johnson, returning to the charge.
And having let five minutes elapse since his promise of secrecy, Mr. Johnson felt he might now with honour let the cat out of the bag:
“The cub got it into his head, at Oxford or some such place, that he wouldn’t take money that had been made in trade. It may be that some other young snob told him that the Stores swindled pence out of people’s pockets. Comes of sending your son to Oxford. And you wanted Luke to go there.”
“I believe it’s a good place in its way, Mat,” Mrs. Johnson said, tolerating Oxford.