his magnificent mannah, and then the floodgates opened.
"I've done it, Min."
The great man was almost afraid the too-familiar groundling would cast himself upon his neck.
"Done what, and why have you done it?" was the unsympathetic inquiry of one whose heart was really as ripe as his judgment.
A long and impassioned recital, of course; and Minnie must help to make it a really great occasion, in order to wipe the eye of No. 88, the corner house.
Mr. Wingrove evinced no particular enthusiasm for this operation, and that was as it should have been, because the attitude of Mr. Philip was fearfully unfilial. Do not for a moment let us pretend it wasn't. But what was a chap to do?
In the circumstances, perhaps, thought Arminius Wingrove, it would show good feeling to be married by the Registrar.
"I'm hanged if we'll be," said Philip, "unless she really wants it; and of course no girl does."
"Then it appears to me," said Arminius Wingrove, "that you should go to church as quietly as possible in the absence of your parents."
"That's their look-out, though," said this dogged Briton. "They'll get an invitation; and if they like to come, so much the better; and if they don't, why it's up to us to show that we can do without 'em."
