"Oh, my Lord!" he almost groaned. "Don't tell me she has promised to marry—" He broke off to glare venomously at Thane.
"Don't blame me for it, Charlie," exclaimed the latter. "I am as innocent as an unborn babe. Charge it to woman's wiles." He laughed boisterously, unnaturally.
Mr. Pollock spoke. "The next issue of the Sun will contain the formal announcement of the engagement of the most popular and beloved young lady in Windomville. No doubt it will be old news by that time,—next Thursday,—but publication in the press gives it the importance of officialty."
"We may congratulate ourselves, however, that we are not to lose her," said Mrs. Pollock. "She is to remain in—"
"Whe-when is it to take place?" groaned Charlie, moisture starting out on his brow.
"That," began Mr. Pollock, "is a matter which cannot be definitely announced at present, owing to certain family—er—ah—conditions. In addition to this, I may say that there is also the children to consider, as well as the township trustee and, to an extent, the taxpayer. The—"
"All I've got to say," grated Charlie, "is that the police ought to be consulted, first of all."
"The police!" exclaimed Angie Miller.
"The—the what?" gasped Furman Hatch, lifting his head suddenly. He was very red in the face. "I'd like to know what the devil the police have to do with it?"
Charlie took a look at Angie Miller's face, and then the truth dawned upon him. He sank back in his chair so suddenly that the legs gave forth an ominous crack.