"Ahem!" coughed Mr. Walkingshaw.
The lovers endeavored to look as though the artist had been merely posing his patron's daughter.
"Well?" inquired that patron genially.
Lucas had not altogether lost his ready audacity.
"I came at once, sir," he replied, "and I have explained fully. The complication has been cleared up."
Laughing gleefully, chattering away much more like the prospective best man than the future father-in-law, he led them (an arm thrown about each) towards the sofa, where they sat together, crowded but happy.
"What would you put your income at now, Lucas?" he inquired mischievously.
Lucas looked a little rueful.
"The same fluctuating figures, I'm afraid," he confessed.