“Yes, Sir Patrick.”
“May I ask how you know that my niece is not an adulterated article, like the rest of them?”
Arnold’s indignation loosened the last restraints that tied Arnold’s tongue. He exploded in the three words which mean three volumes in every circulating library in the kingdom.
“I love her.”
Sir Patrick sat back in his chair, and stretched out his legs luxuriously.
“That’s the most convincing answer I ever heard in my life,” he said.
“I’m in earnest!” cried Arnold, reckless by this time of every consideration but one. “Put me to the test, Sir! put me to the test!”
“Oh, very well. The test is easily put.” He looked at Arnold, with the irrepressible humor twinkling merrily in his eyes, and twitching sharply at the corners of his lips. “My niece has a beautiful complexion. Do you believe in her complexion?”
“There’s a beautiful sky above our heads,” returned Arnold. “I believe in the sky.”
“Do you?” retorted Sir Patrick. “You were evidently never caught in a shower. My niece has an immense quantity of hair. Are you convinced that it all grows on her head?”