“That’s right, then, so far; but what I say is that you ought to have come straight to me, as her father, and ‘Mr Simpkins,’ says you, ‘I’ve took a great fancy to your filly’—daughter, I mean—‘and I’m going to make proposals for her ’and,’ you says.”
“Yes, Mr Simpkins; I’m very much attached to your daughter and I’ve married her.”
“No, you didn’t, young gentleman,” cried the old man, irascibly. “That’s just what you ought to have done.”
“Yes, exactly, Mr Simpkins; but, I say, what are you doing to-day about the big race?”
“Never you mind about no big race, young fellow. I want to know what you’re going to do about the human race. You’ve married my gal candlestine, as they call it, and I want to know about settlements. You don’t expect I’m going to keep you and your wife and family?”
“Well, he won’t let me,” said Syd, in response to a whisper.
“Of course he won’t,” said the trainer. “Not likely. You’re a gentleman, I suppose. You won’t want to do nothing for your living.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Syd.
“Well, that means you will. That sounds better. But you won’t want to come and live here and help serve behind my bar?”
“No, I’m blest if I do!”