"It's the brother who runs the farm with me," explained the boy. "He's a cripple and rather a bit nervous now and then, but he reads an awful lot of books. Not just farm books I mean--not just scientific books, but all sorts of----" "By which you are intending to imply," interrupted the man, "that your brother's opinion, even though nervous, may be considered fairly sophisticated?" "Oh, yes," said the boy. "And we went into it all very thoroughly. All the scandal and notoriety of the expulsion, I mean, and the fright and the mortification, and the silly sap-headed mothers who won't let their [20] daughters chum with your daughter any more, and the old cats who all their lives long will be pussy footing after her with whispers and insinuations. It's the bill, of course, that I can't ever pay. That's the beastliness of it! But what I've got, of course, I must give towards it! This isn't just my opinion, you understand?" he questioned a bit sharply. "But it's my brother's, too! And it isn't just my brother's either! It's _mine_!" "And that opinion is----?" prompted the man. "I should like to ask your daughter to marry me!" said the boy. "I admit that that opinion is--classical," drawled the man. "Shall--shall we consult the lady?" "Yes," said the boy. "Suppose you go to the door and call her," suggested the father. An instant later the boy was on the threshold. With the hesitation of perplexity only he peered first to the right and then to the left. "Miss Bretton!" he called. "Not even 'Daphne?'" interpolated the man. [21] With a vague gesture of surprise the boy swung back into the room. "Why--why I never even _saw_ your daughter," he said, "until the night of the dance!" "_What_?" cried the man. Before the interrogative exclamation could even be acknowledged Daphne herself appeared upon the scene. "Yes,--Mr. Wiltoner?" she faltered. "Mr. Wiltoner," said her father quite abruptly, "has just made you an offer of marriage." "A--what?" gasped the girl. "Mr. Wiltoner--I would say," drawled her father, "has--just done himself the honor of asking your hand in marriage." "What?" repeated the girl, her voice like a smothered scream. "And he's quite poor, I judge," said her father, "with all his own way to make in the world--and a crippled brother besides. And whoever marries him now will have the devil of a time pitching in neck and neck to help him run his farm. Have to carry wood, I mean, and water, and help plow and help [22] scrub and help kill pigs--and help wrangle with the crippled brother and----" "_What_?" gasped the girl.