“Of course it is, dear. Are you ready?”
Alfred gasped a little at the prompt question, despite his confidence.
“Why, Fanny, you don’t mean actually now—this very day? Gracious!”
“Why not now? Since we think best to be married immediately and in private, why should we put it off until to-night, or next week, when we are both as ready now as we can be then?” asked Fanny, quietly; “especially as something may happen to make it impossible then.”
Alfred Dinks shut his eyes.
“What will your father say?” he inquired, at length, without raising his eyelids.
“Do you not see he will have to make up his mind to it, just as your mother will?” replied Fanny.
“And my father!” said Alfred, in a state of temporary blindness continued.
“Yes, and your father too,” answered Fanny, both she and Alfred treating the Honorable Budlong Dinks as a mere tender to that woman-of-war his wife, in a way that would have been incredible to a statesman who considered his wife a mere domestic luxury.
There was a silence of several minutes. Then Mr. Dinks opened his eyes, and said,