Ralph Newton had hitherto rather prided himself on his happy management of young ladies. He was not ordinarily much afflicted by shyness, and conceived himself able to declare a passion, perhaps whether felt or feigned, as well as another. And now he was being taught how to go a-wooing by his breeches-maker! He did not altogether like it, and, as at this moment his mind was rather set against the Hendon matrimonial speculation, he was disposed to resent it. "I think you're making a little mistake, Mr. Neefit," he said. "What mistake? I don't know as I'm making any mistake. You'll be making a mistake, and so you'll find when the plum's gone." "It's just this, you know. When you suggested this thing to me--" "Well;--yes; I did suggest it, and I ain't ashamed of it." "I was awfully grateful. I had met your daughter once or twice, and I told you I admired her ever so much." "That's true;--but you didn't admire her a bit more than what she's entitled to." "I'm sure of that. But then I thought I ought,--just to,--know her a little better, you see. And then how could I presume to think she'd take me till she knew me a little better?" "Presume to think! Is that all you know about young women? Pop the question right out, and give her a buss. That's the way." Newton paused a moment before he spoke, and looked very grave. "I think you're driving me a little too fast, Mr. Neefit," he said at last. "The deuce I am! Driving you too fast. What does that mean?" "There must be a little management and deliberation in these things. If I were to do as you propose, I should not recommend myself to your daughter; and I should myself feel that, at the most important crisis of my life, I was allowing myself to be hurried beyond my judgment." These words were spoken with a slow solemnity of demeanour, and a tone of voice so serious that for a moment they perfectly awed the breeches-maker. Ralph was almost successful in reducing his proposed father-in-law to a state of absolute subjection. Mr. Neefit was all but induced to forget that he stood there with twenty thousand pounds in his pocket. There came a drop or two of perspiration on his brow, and his large saucer eyes almost quailed before those of his debtor. But at last he rallied himself,--though not entirely. He could not quite assume that self-assertion which he knew that his position would have warranted; but he did keep his flag up after a fashion. "I dare say you know your own business best, Mr. Newton;--only them's not my ideas; that's all. I come to you fair and honest, and I repeats the same. Good morning, Mr. Newton." So he went, and nothing had been settled.