Dunn. No, sir, I do not think so. If you have a notion that I—the parent of three blooming daughters—am willing to permit you to trifle and play with the affections of the eldest of them in the manner you have so basely proposed, I must ask you to dispel that notion at once and forever, for you never labored under a greater mistake in your life, never.
Smith. Now there is just a little bit of sentiment in that speech, and I must admit that you delivered it in a fair dramatic style, Mr. Dunnbrowne, but you see the general effect is marred by my not knowing what you are driving at. What do you mean?
Dunn. Mean, sir, mean? I think I explained myself sufficiently.
Smith. Scarcely. You volunteer some remarks about your daughters. Now, with all the respect that is due to those young ladies, I must ask you to put your parental feelings aside for a short time, and proceed with the business we have on hand. Ladies are out of my line altogether. Between you and me, Mr. Dunnbrowne, I am not a marrying man.
Dunn. Not a marrying man! Then what under the sun did you write me that letter for respecting your love for my daughter, eh?
Smith. Write you? Why, I never heard your name before this morning.
Dunn. (aside) This is very strange. Can there be a mis—(aloud) Your name is Smith, is it not?
Smith. Yes, that is my name.
Dunn. Ah! (takes a letter from his pocket and unfolds it) Now tell me, Mr. Smith, on your honor as a gentleman, did you or did you not write that letter to me? (giving the letter to Smith)
Smith. (reads) "Dear sir,—for a long period of time I have fondly and madly loved your daughter Fanny with—" Oh, rubbish! On my honor as a gentleman, Mr. Dunnbrowne, I never loved any man's daughter, much less wrote this letter; besides, it is signed John Smith and my name is James. (returns the letter)