"I am afraid you have said such things to a great many other young ladies before. How can I believe you are in earnest?"
"No; on my honor," he said earnestly, "I never loved before. Do you doubt the sincerity of my attachment? Don't you think you could look favorably upon my suit?"
"Perhaps I might," she answered, coyly. "That is, in time. It is so sudden, you know. It is not more than a month since I first met you."
"But in that month I have learned to love you better than anyone I ever knew, Miss Clara. Can't you give me some encouragement? Tell me that I am not wholly disagreeable to you?"
"If you had been, would I have accepted your invitation this evening, Mr. Cromwell?"
"Then you do like me a little?" he said, overjoyed.
"Perhaps, a little," she said, coquettishly.
After some time, Clara thought it polite to confess that she had herself no particular objections to him as a husband,—a confession which filled the enamored druggist with delight—"but," she proceeded, "I cannot marry without my father's approval."
"But do you think he will object to me?" asked Cromwell, in dismay.
"Papa is a very peculiar man," answered Clara. "I never can undertake to say beforehand how he will look upon any proposition. Perhaps he may give his consent at once, or perhaps it may take considerable time to persuade him. I cannot tell. But whatever he decides, I cannot disobey him."