"Four!" cried the Duchess, with a gurgle of youthful laughter. "Oh, Jack! Jack! I protest, as you sit there you are growing more youthful every minute."
"Gad so, mam! then I'll go before I become a mewling infant—I say a puling brat, mam."
"Stay a moment, Jack. I want you to explain your wishes to Mr. Beverley in regard to Cleone's future."
"Certainly, your Grace—I say by all means, mam."
"Very well, then I'll begin. Listen—both of you. Captain Chumly, being a bachelor and consequently an authority on marriage, has, very properly, chosen whom his ward must marry; he has quite settled and arranged it all, haven't you, Jack?"
"Quite, mam, quite."
"Thus, Cleone is saved all the bother and worry of choosing for herself, you see, Mr. Beverley, for the Captain's choice is fixed,— isn't it, Jack?"
"As a rock, mam—I say as an accurs—ha! an adamantine crag, mam. My ward shall marry my nephew, Viscount Devenham, I am determined on it—"
"Consequently, Mr. Beverley, Cleone will, of course, marry—whomsoever she pleases!"
"Eh, mam? I say, what?—I say—"