“Humph! I suppose so; but mind this; you can’t be wed till the chaplain’s found! Ha! ha! ha! I say, doctor, that will stir up Hilton here!”
“We are making earnest efforts to find him without that,” said Hilton, warmly.
“Oh, are you?” said the old merchant. “Well, look here, just a few business words in the presence of witnesses before I go up to Perowne, for I promised to go and smoke a pipe with the poor fellow, who’s as sick in body as he is in pocket and mind.”
“I’m going there, and we’ll trot over together,” said the doctor.
“Verra good,” said old Stuart. “So now look here, Master Hilton, commonly called Captain Hilton, you came to me to-day saying that you had my child’s consent to ask me to give her to you for a wife.”
“Yes, sir, and I repeat it.”
“Well, I sort of consented, didn’t I?”
“You did, sir.”
“Good; but once more—you know I’m a verra poor man?”
“I know you are not a rich one, sir.”