His son nodded. “That wouldn't do Nancy much good, though,” he remarked.
“I want to do everything for the best,” said the other, “and I s'pose the right and proper thing to do is to take him by the scruff of his neck and run him along to Nancy.”
“You try it,” said Mr. Carter, hotly. “Who is Nancy?”
The other growled, and was about to aim a blow at him when his son threw himself upon him and besought him to be calm.
“Just one,” said his father, struggling, “only one. It would do me good; and perhaps he'd come along the quieter for it.”
“Look here!” said Mr. Carter. “You're mistaking me for somebody else, that's what you are doing. What am I supposed to have done?”
“You're supposed to have come courting my daughter, Mr. Somebody Else,” said the other, releasing himself and thrusting his face into Mr. Carter's, “and, after getting her promise to marry you, nipping off to London to arrange for the wedding. She's been mourning over you for four years now, having an idea that you had been made away with.”
“Being true to your memory, you skunk,” said the son.
“And won't look at decent chaps that want to marry her,” added the other.
“It's all a mistake,” said Mr. Carter. “I came down here this morning for the first time in my life.”