in-law?" Mr. Brewster swallowed a few more times, Archie the while watching with a frozen fascination the rapid shimmying of his new relative's Adam's-apple. "Go away! I want to have a few words alone with this—this—wassyourdamname?" he demanded, in an overwrought manner, addressing Archie for the first time.
"I told you, father. It's Moom."
"Moom?"
"It's spelt M-o-f-f-a-m, but pronounced Moom."
"To rhyme," said Archie, helpfully, "with Bluffinghame."
"Lu," said Mr. Brewster, "run away! I want to speak to—to—to"
"You called me this before," said Archie.
"You aren't angry, father, dear?" said Lucille.
"Oh no! Oh no! I'm tickled to death!"
When his daughter had withdrawn, Mr. Brewster drew a long breath.
"Now, then!" he said.
"Bit embarrassing, all this, what!" said Archie, chattily. "I mean to say, having met before in less happy circs. and what not. Rum coincidence and so forth! How would it be to bury the jolly old hatchet—start a new life—forgive and forget—learn to love each other—and all that sort of rot? I'm game if you are. How do we go? Is it a bet?"
Mr. Brewster remained entirely unsoftened by this manly appeal to his better feelings.
"What the devil do you mean by marrying my daughter?"
Archie reflected.
"Well, it sort of happened, don't you know! You know
