Midas gasped, and then he laughed sheepishly.
"To think that I, a hardened old bachelor, should be a victim to love at first sight!" he said.
"Very funny indeed," laughed the miller.
"What would you say to me as a son-in-law, eh?" Midas went on. "You know I'm a decent chap, old man. No funny business about my private life—it's a good chance to get your daughter settled in life, and—"
"Well, I don't know," said the miller, coolly. "You are generally considered to be a fairly eligible sort of person, Midas, but my daughter can afford to marry for love as long as the straw crop holds good."
A glitter came into Midas's eye.
"What if I were to corner the market?" he demanded.
"That would be bad for Gasmerilda and me," the miller agreed. "Mind you, I haven't said I disapproved of the match, but let's be perfectly frank with each other. I'm not going to sell my daughter to you or to anybody else, but you know how things run these days. A man's a millionaire to-day and a member of the down-and-out club to-morrow. Now, I don't know the first blessed thing about your prospects. You are rich now, but who knows that before 1915 you won't be in a federal jail somewhere without a nickel?"
"I see your point," said Midas, "and I'll settle five million on her to-morrow."