“Me?” said Flower, in surprise.
“You know that little plan I told you of when you was down here?” said the other.
His nephew nodded.
“It came off,” groaned Captain Barber. “I’ve got news for you as’ll make you dance for joy.”
“I’ve got a bad foot,” said Flower, paling.
“Never mind about your foot,” said his uncle, regarding him fixedly. “Your banns are up.”
“Up! Up where?” gasped Flower.
“Why—in the church,” said the other, staring at him; “where do you think? I got the old lady’s consent day before yesterday, and had ’em put up at once.”
“Is she dead, then?” enquired his nephew, in a voice the hollowness of which befitted the question.
“How the devil could she be?” returned his uncle, staring at him.