"Why, indeed," says my lady, "I had forgotten him. 'Tis a friend of yours, I think. Pray come out, Mr. Beverley."
"Beverley!" exclaimed the Captain. "Now sink me! what's all this?
Come out, sir,—I say come out and show yourself!"
So Barnabas stepped out from the hedge, and uncovering his head, bowed low.
"Your very humble, obedient servant, sir," said he.
"Ha! by Thor and Odin, so it's you again, is it, sir? Pray, what brings you still so far from the fashionable world? What d'ye want, sir, eh, sir?"
"Briefly, sir," answered Barnabas, "your ward."
"Eh—what? what?" cried the Captain.
"Sir," returned Barnabas, "since you are the Lady Cleone's lawful guardian, it is but right to tell you that I hope to marry her—some day."
"Marry!" exclaimed the Captain. "Marry my—damme, sir, but you're cool—I say cool and devilish impudent, and—and—oh, Gad, Cleone!"
"My dear," said she, smiling and stroking her tyrant's shaven cheek, "why distress ourselves, we can always refuse him, can't we?"