"Listen to me, sir," cried Tryphie, unable to repress a smile--"I was going to say--Do you think I am going to promise to marry an idle, thoughtless, selfish man, with only two ideas in his head?" "Two?" said Tom, dolefully. "No, you're wrong. I've only got one." "I say two, sir--cigars and billiards. Do you think I want to marry a chimney-pot, or an animated cue?" "Chimney-pot! Animated cue!" said Tom, with a groan, as he took off his little scarlet smoking-cap, and wrung it in his hands as if it were wet. "Let me see, sir, that you've got some energy in you as well as good sincere feeling, before you speak to me again, if you please." "I may speak to you again, then?" cried Tom. "Of course you may," said Tryphie, tartly. "And then?" cried Tom. "Well, then we shall see," replied the sarcastic little lady. "Energy, eh?" said Tom. "Well, I will: so now to begin again. You know I have been energetic about Maude?" "Ye-es, pretty well," said Tryphie. "Not half enough." "Well, now then, dear--may I say dear?" "If you please, Lord Diphoos," said Tryphie. "I can't help it." "Well, I'm going to be energetic now, and see if I can't do something for Maude." "What are you going to do?" "See Charley Melton and stir him up. Then I shall stir up the gov'nor and Maude, and if none of these things do any good I shall have a go at Wilters." "Ah," said Tryphie, "now I'm beginning to believe in you, and there is some hope that I shall not be forced into a marriage with that odious Captain Bellman." "Tryphie," whispered Tom, as he stared, "just say that again." She shook her head. Tom looked upstairs and then down, saw nobody, and hastily catching the little maiden in his arms, stole a kiss before she fled, when, giving his head a satisfied shake, he went down to the hall, saw that his hat was brushed, and went off to Duke street, in utter ignorance of the fact that his father had been sitting in the curtained recess on the landing, where the flowers dwindled in a kind of conservatory, calmly devouring a piece of Bologna sausage and half a French roll. "He, he, he," chuckled the old gentleman, "that's how they make love when they're young. I was--was--was a devil of a fellow among the ladies when I was Tom's age; but somehow now I never want to meet her ladyship on the stairs and kiss her. I'd--I'd--I'd a doosed deal rather have a nice piece of chicken, or a bit of tongue." CHAPTER TWENTY. TOM EXPRESSES HIS OPINION. Charley Melton was not at home. Tom went again. Not at home. Three weeks passed before he could meet him, and then it was by accident at one of the clubs, and during all this time Tryphie had grown colder, and the wedding-day was approaching. But at last the two young men encountered, and Tom went straight to the point, "Hit out," as he termed it. "Charley Melton," he said, "are you going to let this cursed marriage come off?"