“Mrs. Banks won’t let you and Elizabeth marry till she’s gone,” said he.
His nephew nodded.
“I’ve been at her ever so long,” said the other, “but she’s firm. Now I’m trying artfulness. I’ve got a good-looking housekeeper—she’s the pick o’ seventeen what all come here Wednesday morning—and I’m making love to her.”
“Making love to her,” shouted his nephew, gazing wildly at the venerable bald head with the smoking-cap resting on one huge ear.
“Making love to her,” repeated Captain Barber, with a satisfied air. “What’ll happen? Mrs. Banks, to prevent me getting married, as she thinks, will give her consent to you an’ Elizabeth getting tied up.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of breach of promise cases?” asked his nephew, aghast.
“There’s no fear o’ that,” said Captain Barber, confidently. “It’s all right with Mrs. Church she’s a widder. A widder ain’t like a young girl she knows you don’t mean anything.”
It was useless to argue with such stupendous folly; Captain Flower tried another tack.
“And suppose Mrs. Church gets fond of you,” he said, gravely. “It doesn’t seem right to trifle with a woman’s affections like that.”
“I won’t go too far,” said the lady-killer in the smoking-cap, reassuringly.