"Father," said the girl.
"Hum," he replied, without looking up.
"I wish to present to you—"
"What?" he exclaimed, looking up and catching sight of young Spickle. "Have you the impudence to follow me here? Didn't I tell you that I would see you to-morrow?"
"Why, father, you don't know Mr. Spickle, do you?"
"I don't know his name, but I know that he has been to my office three times a day for the past week with a bill. I know him well enough. I can't pay that bill to-night, young man. Come to my office to-morrow."
"I hope," said Spickle, "that you do not think so ill of me. I have not come to collect the bill you have referred to, but—"
"What? Got another one?"
"You persist in misunderstanding me. I did not come to collect a bill, I can come to-morrow and see you about that. To-night I proposed to your daughter, and have been accepted. Our mission is to acquaint you with the fact and gain your consent to our marriage."
"Well," said the old fellow, "is that all? Blamed if I didn't think you had a bill. Take the girl, if that's what you want, but say, didn't I tell you to bring the bill to-morrow?"