Dr. A. It’s very possible. I was second wrangler of my year.
Mrs. V. B. I told you last night of Eve’s engagement. Well, old Mr. Smailey has sent me a note to say that he will call on me to-morrow week to talk over the settlement I propose to make on the occasion of my darling’s marriage with his son. Now, doctor, look as wise as you can, and tell me what I ought to do.
Dr. A. Well, in such a case I should be very worldly. I think, my dear, I should prepare a nice little luncheon, with a bottle of that Amontillado, and then, having got him quietly and cosily tête-à-tête, I should ask him what he proposes to do.
Mrs. V. B. Very good indeed, doctor. Upon my word, for a colonial bishop-elect, that’s not bad. But, unfortunately, I’ve already ascertained that he proposes to do nothing. All his money is tied up.
Dr. A. Oh, is it indeed? Bless me! Tied up, is it? And may I ask, what do you understand by that expression?
Mrs. V. B. Well, in round terms, it’s his, but he mustn’t spend it. Do you understand?
Dr. A. Oh, yes. When I was a boy my uncle gave me a guinea on those terms.
Mrs. V. B. Now come, doctor dear, the young people look to me, and, when one is looked to, one should be equal to the emergency. What would you advise me to do?
Dr. A. Your property is not, I suppose, tied up?