“All right. Have it aired. It will be very pretty, now that the broom and all that is coming on again. In another week or so the nightingales will be about. Could you have a snugger place on earth to pass your honeymoon in?” “Twig,” said Sir Cumberleigh, “twig’s the word, with a little quiet prodding, and a special license. But won’t she cut up rough, my boy? We must not have abduction. It has been done in my family; but the times were better then.” “Kitty is not the one to cut up rough. My mother has drilled her a lot too well for that. And if I come with her, and you are not seen till the last, there can be no talk about abduction. All little particulars must be left to me. You can let me your crib, if it eases you down, and produce the agreement, if there is any row. But there won’t be any row. You know the rule with women—smoothe over everything, when the job is done.” “I should like to think over it a little, Downy. I am not like a boy who has the world on his side, when he does a rash thing in his passion. The world has been very hard on me, God knows; and I am rather old to give it another slap in the face. Why shouldn’t I marry the charming Kitty, with her mother’s consent, and all done in proper trim? Then we could go down to my old house, and have bonfires, and bells, and roast an ox, and all that. And she could have a settlement, why not? My lawyers could do it, so as to leave me the tin?” “Try it on that way, if you like. How can it matter to me, beloved Potts? There are two little stodges for you to get over. Would Kitty ever look at you if she knew she had this money? And my mother will not hear of you, since she saw that letter.” “That devil of a woman!” cried the other rather rudely, forgetting that her son received the statement of the fact. “She has always had her own way, and she always will. Thank God that she never married me. Perhaps she would have done it if she had seen me soon enough. If she has turned against me it is all up, without some such lay as yours, my boy. Not a dog can tuck his ear up without her knowing why. You could never get your sister down there, without her knowing it.” “She is not my sister,” said Downy very hotly; “or do you think I would let her marry such a man as you? But the devil of a woman, as you politely call her, goes down to my Grandfather in Wales next week, and takes my two sisters with her.” “Oh, then the coast will be clear, my dear boy! That makes all the difference. You might have told me that, half an hour ago. I see my way out of it now, clear enough. The main point will be to keep the country lawyers quiet. Unless they get an answer to their letter pretty sharp, they’ll be sending up a junior partner, or their London agent, for fear of some other lawyer’s finger in the pie. That would upset your pot. How are you to help it?”