“We'll show them how to get on,” observed the Lady 'Ortensia to her bridegroom, with a smile.
Mr. Clapper responded with a gurgle.
“When me and the old girl there fixed things up,” said Uncle Gutton, “we didn't talk no nonsense, and we didn't start with no misunderstandings. 'I'm not a duke,' I says—”
“Had she been mistaking you for one?” enquired Minikin.
Mr. Clapper commented, not tactfully, but with appreciative laugh. I feared for a moment lest Uncle Gutton's little eyes should leave his head.
“Not being a natural-born, one-eyed fool,” replied Uncle Gutton, glaring at the unabashed Minikin, “she did not. 'I'm not a duke,' I says, and she had sense enough to know as I was talking sarcastic like. 'I'm not offering you a life of luxury and ease. I'm offering you myself, just what you see, and nothing more.'”
“She took it?” asked Minikin, who was mopping up his gravy with his bread.
“She accepted me, sir,” returned Uncle Gutton, in a voice that would have awed any one but Minikin. “Can you give me any good reason for her not doing so?”
“No need to get mad with me,” explained Minikin. “I'm not blaming the poor woman. We all have our moments of despair.”
The unfortunate Clapper again exploded. Uncle Gutton rose to his feet. The ready Jarman saved the situation.