Indeed, the only person to whom the news was not satisfactory was Mazooku.
“Ou!” he said, with a grunt, when Jeremy communicated it to him. “So the Rosebud is going to become the Rose, and I shan’t even be able to lead my father to bed now. Ou!” And from that day forward Mazooku’s abstracted appearance showed that he was meditating deeply on something.
Next morning his uncle sent for Ernest into the office. Dorothy led him in.
“O, here you are!” said his uncle.
“Yes, here we are, Reginald,” answered Dorothy; “what is it? Shall I go away?”
“No, don’t go away. What I have to say concerns you both. Come and look at the orchids, Ernest; they are beautiful. Ah!” he went on, stammering, “I forgot you can’t see them. Forgive me.”
“Never mind, uncle, I can smell them;” and they went into the blooming-house appropriated to the temperate kinds.
At the end of this house was a little table and some iron chairs, where Mr. Cardus would sometimes come and smoke a cigarette. Here they sat down.
“Now, young people,” said Mr. Cardus, wiping his bald head, “you are going to get married. May I ask what you are going to get married on?”
“By Jove,” said Ernest, “I never thought of that! I haven’t got much, except a title, a mansion with ‘numerous and valuable’ heirlooms, and one hundred and eighty acres of park,” he added, laughing.