“What’s the matter now?”
“My aunt.”
“You seemed to have acquired a trick recently of looking at all the difficulties of your position at once. Why don’t you take them singly? You’ve just got rid of Mackenzie’s opposition; that might have contented you for a while.”
“I think the best plan will be to say nothing of this to my aunt, at present. I think we ought to get married first, and when I take Sheila to see her as my wife, what can she say then?”
“But what is Sheila likely to say before then? And Sheila’s father? You must be out of your mind.”
“There will be a pretty scene, then, when I tell her.”
“Scenes don’t hurt anybody, unless when they end in brickbats or decanters. Your aunt must know you would marry some day.”
“Yes, but you know whom she wished me to marry.”
“That’s nothing. Every old lady has a fancy for imagining possible marriages; but your aunt is a reasonable woman, and could not possibly object to your marrying a girl like Sheila.”
“Oh, couldn’t she? Then you don’t know her; ‘Frank, my dear, what are the arms borne by your wife’s family?’ ‘My dear aunt I will describe them to you as becomes a dutiful nephew. The arms are quarterly; first and fourth, vert, a herring, argent; second and third, azure, a solan-goose, volant, or. The crest, out of a crown vallery, argent, a cask of whisky, gules. Supporters, dexter, a gillie; sinister, a fisherman.’ ”