"Oh, certainly! Oh, yes, yes," ejaculated old Amos, in a transport of grins. "And this will, I trust,"--he was growing more stately and polite every moment--"this, of course, is satisfactory to you, Miss Madeline?" "Perfectly." She looked him full in the face now, and somehow her glance slightly impaired his feeling of dignity and security. "Very good; and now having formally accepted the proffered hand of Mr. Adams--" "Pardon me, sir, you are too fast. Mr. Adams has not offered himself." "Nonsense,"--Mr. Arthur suddenly forgot his politeness--"haven't I just stated his offer?" Madeline leaned back in her chair, and looked from one to the other with a tranquil smile. "Perhaps; but unfortunately there is a law in existence which prohibits a man from marrying his grandmother, and likewise objects, I believe, to a young woman's espousing her step-papa, however much adored. And as you can't marry me, my dear parent and guardian, why I object to listening to a proposal from your lips." John Arthur gazed in angry consternation upon the girl's still smiling face, but before the impatient words that he would have uttered could find voice, old Amos, who had interpreted her smiles as being favorable to himself, came gallantly to the rescue. "Right! quite right," he chuckled. "Of course, you know, Arthur--Miss Madeline, ahem--that's what I meant, you know. It's the proper way," he gasped; and the general expression of his countenance did not tend to make his observations the more lucid--"I meant, you know--ah, well--will you honor me Miss Madeline--by--by your hand, you know?" This effort of oratory was received with smiling attention by the girl, who now addressed herself entirely to him, without heeding the effect of her words upon her step-father, or his interpolations, as she proceeded. "Mr. Adams;"--she spoke in a low, even tone, and gradually permitted the real feelings that were seeking for expression to show themselves in her every feature--"Mr. Adams, I think I appreciate _as it deserves_ the honor you desire to bestow upon me; believe me, too, when I say that I am as grateful as it is proper I should be. But, Mr. Adams, I am only a mere girl, and you might pay too dearly for me." "What the deuce does the fool mean?" growled Mr. Arthur. "I don't dispute the fact that I am a perfectly marketable commodity, and it is very right and proper that my dear step-papa--who dotes on me, whose idol I have been for long years--should set a high valuation upon my unworthy head. Yet this little Arcadian transaction is really not just the thing for the present century and country. And so, Mr. Adams, I must beg leave to thank you for the honor you proffer, and, thanking you, to decline it!"