“You haven’t had time to learn everything yet, Oliver; but I think you ought to know that we are engaged.”
“Holy Gee! Is that so? My compliments.” He swept them a low bow. “God bless you, my children!”
“Of course he’ll stay to dinner,” said Peggy; and she looked at Oliver as who should say, “Touch him at your peril: he belongs to me.”
So Doggie had to yield. Mrs. Conover went into the house to arrange for Oliver’s comfort, and the others strolled round the garden.
“Well, my boy,” said the Dean, “so you’re back in the old country?”
“Turned up again like a bad penny.”
The Dean’s kindly face clouded. “I hope you’ll soon be able to find something to do.”
“It’s money I want, not work,” said Oliver.
“Ah!” said the Dean, in a tone so thoughtful as just to suggest a lack of sympathy.
Oliver looked over his shoulder—the Dean and himself were preceding Marmaduke and Peggy on the trim gravel path. “Do you care to lend me a few thousands, Doggie?”