“That’s it! there’s the whole cause of it at last!” cried Mr. Kennedy, in a perfect paroxysm of excitement, flinging his pipe violently at the unoffending victim as he rushed towards it. The pipe missed the cat, but went with a sharp crash through the parlour window, at which Charley was seated, while his father darted through the doorway, along the passage, and into the kitchen. Here the cat, having first capsized a pyramid of pans and kettles in its consternation, took refuge in an absolutely unassailable position. Seeing this, Mr. Kennedy violently discharged a pailful of water at the spot, strode rapidly to his own apartment, and locked himself in.
“Dear me, Harry, what’s wrong? my father seems unusually excited,” said Charley, in some astonishment, as Harry entered the room, and flung himself on a chair with a look of chagrin.
“It’s difficult to say, Charley; the fact is, I’ve asked your sister Kate to be my wife, and your father seems to have gone mad with indignation.”
“Asked Kate to be your wife!” cried Charley, starting up, and regarding his friend with a look of amazement.
“Yes, I have,” replied Harry, with an air of offended dignity. “I know very well that I am unworthy of her, but I see no reason why you and your father should take such pains to make me feel it.”
“Unworthy of her, my dear fellow!” exclaimed Charley, grasping his hand and wringing it violently; “no doubt you are, and so is everybody, but you shall have her for all that, my boy. But tell me, Harry, have you spoken to Kate herself?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And does she agree?”
“Well, I think I may say she does.”
“Have you told my father that she does?”