“Well, when I was after Mrs. Dosson I guess I spoke to her quick enough,” Francie’s father just a little dryly stated. There was an element of reproach in this and Gaston was mystified, for the question about his means a moment before had been in the nature of a challenge.
“How will you feel if she won’t have you after you’ve exposed yourself this way to me?” Mr. Dosson went on.
“Well, I’ve a sort of confidence. It may be vain, but God grant not! I think she likes me personally, but what I’m afraid of is that she may consider she knows too little about me. She has never seen my people—she doesn’t know what may be before her.”
“Do you mean your family—the folks at home?” said Mr. Dosson. “Don’t you believe that. Delia has moused around—SHE has found out. Delia’s thorough!”
“Well, we’re very simple kindly respectable people, as you’ll see in a day or two for yourself. My father and sisters will do themselves the honour to wait upon you,” the young man announced with a temerity the sense of which made his voice tremble.
“We shall be very happy to see them, sir,” his host cheerfully returned. “Well now, let’s see,” the good gentleman socially mused. “Don’t you expect to embrace any regular occupation?”
Gaston smiled at him as from depths. “Have YOU anything of that sort, sir?”
“Well, you have me there!” Mr. Dosson resignedly sighed. “It doesn’t seem as if I required anything, I’m looked after so well. The fact is the girls support me.”
“I shall not expect Miss Francie to support me,” said Gaston Probert.
“You’re prepared to enable her to live in the style to which she’s accustomed?” And his friend turned on him an eye as of quite patient speculation.