Ton. But, Mr. Crusty, her father will not consent to this.
Crusty. Confound her father! Who cares for him or his consent? I give mine, and that is enough. I’m the richest man in the place; and, if anybody complains, let ’em sue me for damages. I won’t have such a confounded mean old cuss—
Ton. Take care, Mr. Crusty!
Crusty. —tomer in town!
Ton. You will back me in this?
Crusty. Back you?—of course I will! Do you suppose I’ll stand by and see youth and honesty and worth given the go-by, by an old, mean—
Ton. Don’t, Mr. Crusty,—don’t call him names.
Crusty. Here, I’ll give you a note to Parson Sanborn, and another for old Hobson. They’ll help you along. I’ll tell the parson to tie the knot strong. (Goes to table, R.) A mean, contemptible scamp!
Zeb. By golly, the old man’s crazy sure for sartain! See him eyes roll!
Ton. Mike, I’ve a great mind to take the old man at his word.