“H'm,” muttered Tulliwuddle doubtfully.
“Or I leave things in such good train that you can propose and get accepted afterwards by letter.”
“That's better,” said Tulliwuddle.
“Then, by a little exercise of our wits, you find an excuse for hurrying on the marriage—have it a private affair for family reasons, and so on. You will be prevented by one excuse or another from meeting the lady till the wedding-day. We shall choose a darkish church, you will have a plaster on your face—and the deed is done!”
“Not a fault can I find,” commented the Baron sagely. “Essington, I congratulate you.”
Between his complete confidence in Essington and the Baron's unqualified commendation, Lord Tulliwuddle was carried away by the project.
“I say, Essington, what a good fellow you are!” he cried. “You really think it will work?”
“What do you say, Baron?”
“It cannot fail, I do solemnly assure you. Be thankful you have soch a friend, Tollyvoddle!”
“You don't think anybody will suspect that you aren't really me?”