"Now," said he, "we'll each sign one. You sha'n't get the better of me, my boy." Each signed in the presence of two waiters, neither of whom knew the nature of the instruments. "Troy weight," said the General magnanimously. "She is a jewel, you know." "Certainly. It's stipulated in the contract--twenty-four carat gold. You said pure, you remember. You may have noticed that I take her at the prevailing market price of gold. It is now four cents a carat. Twenty-four carats in a pennyweight. That makes ninety-six cents per pennyweight. Twenty pennyweight in an ounce, and there we have nineteen dollars and twenty cents per ounce. We'll--we'll weigh her in by ounces." "That's reasonable. The price of gold isn't likely to fluctuate much." "It must be distinctly understood that you keep her well-fed from this day on, General. I won't have her fluctuating. She hasn't any silly notions about reducing, has she?" "My dear fellow, she poses as a Venus," cried the General. "Good! And here's another point: pardon me for suggesting it, but you understand that she's to weigh in--er--that is to say, her clothing is to be weighed in with her." "What's that?" "You heard what I said. She's to be settled for--dressed." "Good Lord, she isn't a chicken!" "Nobody said she was. It is fit and proper that her garments should be weighed with her. Hang it all, man, I'm marrying her clothes as well as anything else." "I will not agree to that. It's preposterous." "I don't mean her entire wardrobe. Just the going-away gown and hat. You can't very well ask her to weigh herself without any--But as gentlemen we need not pursue the matter any farther. You shall have your way about it." "She has a fine pair of scales in her bedroom. She weighs herself every night for her own gratification. I don't see why she can't do it once or twice for my sake." "But women are such dreadful liars about their own weight. She'll be sure to lop off fifteen or twenty pounds in the telling. Hang it, I want witnesses." The General assumed a look of distress. "Remember, sir, that you are speaking of your future wife. You'll have to take her word." Eddie slumped down in his chair, muttering something about niggardliness. "I suppose I'll have to concede the point." His eyes twinkled. "I say, it would be a horrible shock to you, General, if she were to refuse me to-night." "She sha--WON'T!" said the General, setting his jaw, but turning a shade paler. "She'll jump at the chance." Eddie sighed dismally. "Doesn't it really seem awful to you?" "Having you for a son-in-law? YES." "You know I'm only doing this because I want to set up in business for myself and need the money," explained the groom-elect in an effort to justify himself. "Oh, another little point. I'd almost forgotten it. I suppose it will be perfectly convenient for us to live with you for a year or two, until I--" "No!" thundered the General. "Not by a long shot! You go to housekeeping at once, do you understand?"