“I think I love you well enough to consent, but I have always said I would never marry without my mother’s consent.”
“Oh! I’ll ask your mother. May I ask your mother? Come, say yes to that, and I will go and see her next week. May I do that, pet?”
Then there was a sound of something very much like the popping of several corks from as many beer bottles. The young eaves-droppers had no doubt as to the character of these reports, nor did they doubt that they sealed the betrothal, for immediately after they heard Lavinia say:
“Yes, Charles, you may ask my mother.” Another volley of reports followed, and then Lavinia said, “Now, Charles, don’t whisper this to a living soul; let us keep our own secrets for the present.”
“All right,” said the General, “I will say nothing; but next Tuesday I shall start to see your mother.”
“Perhaps you may find it difficult to obtain her consent,” said Lavinia.
At that moment a carriage drove up to the door, and immediately the bell was rung, and the little Commodore entered.
“You here, General?” said the Commodore, as he espied his rival.
“Yes,” said Lavinia, “Mr. Barnum asked him to stay, and we were waiting for you; come, warm yourself.”
“I am not cold,” said the Commodore; “where is Mr. Barnum?”