“Won’t she, though!” said Arminius, looking rather like the statuette of himself by Sir W. G-sc-mbe J-hn.
“No, she won’t, Minnie, and that’s all about it, until her old grandmother gives her consent; and the old lady simply won’t hear of it.”
“Who is her old grandmother?” inquired Arminius, “and why won’t she?”
“Her grandmother is Mrs. Cathcart, who played Lady Macbeth with David Garrick, and she’s taken a prejudice against me because I’m the son of a peer.”
The manner of Arminius seemed to imply that old Mrs. Cathcart had been guilty of a very unfeminine proceeding. But being a disciple of Talleyrand, the great man did not clothe his thoughts with words.
“And to make matters worse, Minnie, there was a simply frightful turn-up between her grandmother and my Mater yesterday afternoon.”
With the flair of a playwright whom Hannibal had himself approved, Arminius Wingrove asked for further information.
“Simply gorgeous, Minnie, for a chap who hadn’t to be in it. Wouldn’t have missed it for worlds—except that I kind of wasn’t in a position to enjoy it, was I? But it hasn’t half crabbed the piece! Tragedy Queen ordered Mater out of the house, and says she shan’t receive her in future. So it’s all up with my people, and I’m afraid it’s all up with hers; and the girl isn’t going to marry me without the consent of all parties.”
The statement of the vain young fellow seemed both florid and ingenuous to Arminius Wingrove, who had hardly been so much amused by anything since the revival of The Importance of Being Earnest.
“And so you don’t think she’ll marry you, do you, my son?”