He reined in his beautiful steed before my window and commenced his proposal breathlessly.
"W-w-w——"
Even Mr. Gladstone, if he had been racing as madly as Lord Arthur might well have been flustered in his speech. The poor singer could not get out the first word, try as he would. At last it came out like a soda-water cork and 'you' with it. But at the 'be' there was—O dire to tell!—another stoppage.
"B-b-b-b-b——"
"Fire! Fire! Hooray!" The dull roar of an advancing crowd burst suddenly upon our ears, mingled with the piercing exultation of small boys. The thunderous clatter of the fire-engine seemed to rock the soil of the Square.
But neither of us took eyes off the other.
"Be!" It was out at last. The end was near. In another second I should say "Yes."
"Fire! Fire!" shrieked the small boys.
"M-m-m-y——"
Lord Arthur's gallant steed shifted uneasily. The fire-engine was thundering down upon it.