“Explain, sir?” said Cyril, coolly; “surely it needs no explanation. I am young, and of one sex; Miss Portlock is young and of the other sex, and a mutual attachment has sprung up.”
“Mutual!”
“Well, yes; I hope so, sir. Perhaps, though, I ought to be content with alluding to my own feelings.”
“Humph! Your own feelings, eh? And pray does Mr Cyril Mallow mean to say that he has become attached to my niece?”
“Certainly he does, sir. You are not surprised?”
“But I am surprised,” said the farmer, angrily, “and I am very glad to have witnessed what I did before the mischief went further. Now, look here, Mr Cyril Mallow, I am a man of business, and when I have an unpleasant matter to tackle I go straight to it at once.”
“A very good plan,” said Cyril, calmly.
“I’m glad you think so, sir,” said the Churchwarden, ironically. “And now, if you please, we’ll walk straight up to the rectory.”
“What for?” cried Cyril, who was startled by his words.
“What for? Why to talk this matter over with your father.”