“The fact is——”
“Eh?”
“My affairs are rather mixed up just now.”
Wallace looked indignant. “And yet you want to marry my daughter! Well, I like your nerve, young man!”
Fanny suddenly stood between them. She had evidently been listening at the door. “That’s just what I like, too, dad. But it doesn’t seem to be cutting any ice now.” Then she turned to Guy. “I’m ashamed of you! After all our practicing, too! Now look here, dad,” she went on, putting her hand on her father’s shoulder. “I can’t live without Guy.” She whispered to the young fellow: “See how much better I do it.” “In fact,” she went on, in a loud voice and with a languishing glance, “I should die without him.”
Wallace pulled down his waistcoat. “Well, go ahead and die!” he said, doggedly. “It would be money saved for me.”
Fanny’s face assumed a look of reproach. “Isn’t it awful to hear a father talk like that? Now, dad, you’ve always blamed me for not being a boy, though everybody knows boys are the most expensive things. Think of the money they spend in college, and all it costs to get ’em out of scrapes! Now, here’s a son for you all ready-made, with his wild oats sown and ready to buckle down to hard work.”
“Look here,” said Wallace. “What does all this mean, anyway?”
“It means,” said Fanny, imitating her father’s tone, “it means that you’ve got to give this young man a job.”
“What?”