Thy guardian till the dawn to be
And thy sweet slumbers keep.'"
"'Slumbers keep,'" snorted Jack, "the insolence of the fellow! Now look on t'other side."
"'I shall be in the orchard to-morrow at the usual hour, in the hope of a word or a look from you.'"
Bentley read, and laid down the paper.
"At the usual hour—d'ye mark that!" cries Jack, thumping himself in the chest—"'tis become a habit with 'em, it seems—and there's for ye, and a nice kettle o' fish it is!"
"Ah, Bentley," says I, "if only your nephew, the young Viscount, were here—"
"To the deuce with Bentley's nephew!" roars Jack. "I say he shouldn't marry her now, no—not if he were ten thousand times Bentley's nephew, sir—deuce take him!"
"So then," says I, "all our plans are gone astray, and she will have her way and wed this adventurer Tawnish, I suppose?"
"No, no, Dick!" cries Jack; "curse me, am I not her father?"