“It’s all very well for you to make fun of it,” said Mrs. Tipping, raising her voice. “I like plain, straightforward dealing folk myself. I don’t understand nothing about your secret services and Governments and all that sort of thing. Mr. Robinson, have you come back prepared to marry my daughter? Because, if you ain’t, we want to know why not.” “Of course I have,” said Flower, hotly. “It’s the dearest wish of my life. I should have come before, only I thought when she didn’t answer my letter that she had given me up.” “Where ’ave you been, and what’s it all about?” demanded Mrs. Tipping. “At present,” said Flower, with an appearance of great firmness, “I can’t tell you. I shall tell Matilda the day after we’re married—if she’ll still trust me and marry me—and you shall all know as soon as we think it’s safe.” “You needn’t say another word, mar,” said Miss Tipping, warningly. “I’m sure,” said the elder lady, bridling. “Perhaps your uncle would like to try and reason with you.” Mr. Porson smiled in a sickly fashion, and cleared his throat. “You see, my dear—” he began. “Your tie’s all shifted to one side,” said his niece, sternly, “and the stud’s out of your buttonhole. I wish you’d be a little tidier when you come here, uncle; it looks bad for the house.” “I came away in a hurry to oblige you,” said Mr. Porson. “I don’t think this is a time to talk about button-holes.” “I thought you were going to say something,” retorted Miss Tipping, scathingly, “and you might as well talk about that as anything else.” “It ain’t right,” said Mrs. Tipping, breaking in, “that you should marry a man you don’t know anything about; that’s what I mean. That’s only reasonable, I think.” “It’s quite fair,” said Flower, trying hard to speak reluctantly. “Of course, if Matilda wishes, I’m quite prepared to go away now. I don’t wish her to tie herself up to a man who at present, at any rate, has to go about wrapped in a mystery.” “All the same,” said Mrs. Tipping, with a gleam in her eyes, “I’m not going to have anybody playing fast and loose with my daughter. She’s got your ring on her finger. You’re engaged to be married to her, and you mustn’t break it off by running away or anything of that kind. If she likes to break it off, that’s a different matter.” “I’m not going to break it off,” said Miss Tipping, fiercely; “I’ve made all the arrangements in my own mind. We shall get married as soon as we can, and I shall put Dick in here as manager, and take a nice little inn down in the country somewhere.” “Mark my words,” said Mrs. Tipping, solemnly, “you’ll lose him again.” “If I lose him again,” said Miss Tipping, dramatically, “if he’s spirited away by these people, or anything happens to him, Dick won’t be manager here. Uncle Porson will have as much drink and as many cigars as he pays for, and Charlie will find another berth.” “Nobody shall hurt a hair of his head,” said Mr. Tipping, with inimitable pathos.