"Hurt!" shrieked Tom, in inarticulate tones. "Sold--sold--sold!" "But what does it mean?" stammered Lord Barmouth. "Mean!" shrieked Tom--"why, that that confounded old humbug Charley has stolen a march on us.--Charley, old fellow, God bless you--I never felt so happy in my life. Here, Maudey, give us a kiss." Before the young man had commenced hugging his sister, Charley Melton had moved to the door, closed and locked it against the inquiring looks of waiters, and taking Maude's hand in his he then asked Lord Barmouth in a few manly words to forgive him and his wife their clandestine proceedings. "Forgive you, Charley," cried the viscount, "of course he will--won't you, dad?" "Well--well--yes, my boy, I think so," said his lordship feebly, as he shook his new son-in-law's hand. "I think I'm very glad, for I never liked that Sir Reginald." "Grantley, father--Grantley Wilters," cried Tom. "To be sure, my boy; yes, of course, Sir Grantley." "But why the dickens didn't you write to us, and let us know?" "Well, we were going to write every day," said Charley, with a peculiar look at Maude; "but we could never agree as to whose duty it was. We should have written though." "But--but--I think you ought to have written, Charley Melton. You see I've been very anxious about my darling Maude." "It was very cruel, papa dear; but really I did mean to write, soon." "I'm very glad of that," said Lord Barmouth; "for really, Maude, my darling, you have frightened me so. I shall have a horrible fit of the gout after this." "Never mind, dad; stop and have it here, and Maudey and I will nurse you--won't we, old girl?" cried Tom. "For gout at home just now would be awful. Oh!" he shrieked, once more going off into convulsions, "won't the old girl be mad!" "Yes, my dears," said Lord Barmouth, shaking away very heartily at Charley Melton's hands, "I'm afraid she'll be very cross. But do you know, I fancy I've caught a bit o' cold." "Never mind, father, we're going to catch it hot," said Tom. "Yes, my boy; but--but I feel a little deaf, and my head is rather thick." "Never mind, old fellow, we've found her." "Yes, my boy, yes, we've found her; but do you know I feel rather confused and puzzled. I--I thought our Maude had gone off with that handsome looking scoundrel who played the organ outside our house." "Well, so she did," cried Tom; "I see it all now. Here he is, dad." "No, no, my boy; don't be so foolish. I want to know why it's Charley Melton, and not that Italian fellow?" "Why, governor, can't you see through it?" "No, my boy. It's all a puzzle to me." "Nonsense, dad, Charley made a postman of that organ-grinder. Now do you twig?" "And--and a post-office of the organ? I think I am beginning to see."