"Give us yer blessin'," said Quinney, quite riotously. Then, masterfully, he kissed the girl again, turning to confront the astonished mother.
"Settled between us three months ago," he explained fluently. "We dassen't tell a soul, not even you, because of the old man. He was capable of leavin' every bob to an orsepital for dogs. He said to me once, 'Don't let me hear anything of goings on between you and that there Biddlecombe girl!' By Gum, I obeyed him! He never did hear anything. Me and Susie took jolly good care o' that. I only hope as he knows now."
At this Susan murmured:
"Joe, dear, please don't!"
Then mother and daughter solemnly embraced.
"I hated not to tell you," whispered Susan, "but Joe would have his way."
"The old 'un told me I might look high with my prospects, but he never did know quality. Quantity was what he'd go for. Lord! How he fairly wallowed in job lots! Well, all that's over."
He began to walk up and down the small room, telling the two women his plans for the future. They listened with shadows of perplexity in their brown eyes, and presently Mrs. Biddlecombe carefully cleaned and put on her spectacles, peering at her future son-in-law with eyes just dimmed by happy tears.
Presently he spoke of the sign, making a rough drawing. Mrs. Biddlecombe laughed slily as she pointed out the apostrophe in "Quinney's."
"Isn't Susie going to help?" she asked. "Why not 'Quinneys'?"