“Well, Sophia, what do you say?”
“Presumably you don’t want me to persuade you to take it.”
“No, I shall accept as it is offered me, frankly—and by telegram.”
He looked upon the members of his family and took no pains to hide his intense satisfaction.
“But I’m keeping you from your duties, Lionel. You mustn’t wait a moment longer.” His son went to the door, but the Canon called him back. “One moment, I was forgetting. I think the time has now arrived to announce Winnie’s betrothal publicly. Just sit down and write out a notice; you can leave it at the News Agency as you pass.”
Lionel obediently went to the desk and took a pen. The Canon cleared his throat.
“We are authorized to announce that a marriage has been arranged between Lord Wroxham, of Castle Tanker, and Winifred, only daughter of the Honourable, (write that in full, Lionel,) of the Honourable and Reverend Canon Theodore Spratte, bishop elect of Sheffield; better known as the——”
“Better known as the—yes?”
“You’re very dull, Lionel,” exclaimed the Canon, with a laugh that was somewhat irritable. “Better known as the popular and brilliant Vicar of St. Gregory’s, South Kensington.”
When Lionel had departed with this, Canon Spratte turned jovially to his brother.