"Nothing!" cried Syd, without turning his head; but he did the next moment. "I say, Sam, don't she look lovely?" "Sam, eh? Well, you're a cool 'un, 'pon my soul!" "Oh, daddy, don't!" cried the girl, pettishly. "But I shall. Here, he marries you without coming to me first with `by your leave' or `with your leave.'" "But hasn't he come now, daddy? You always used to say you wished you'd got a boy, and now you've got one--a beauty. Ain't you, Syd?" "Stunner." "Will you hold your tongue, Molly! You've got a worse clack than your mother had." "Then do come and do the proper. You kneel down, Syd, and I'll lean on your shoulder. I ain't going to spoil my dress for nobody, not even a cross old dad. That's right. Down on your knees, Syd." "Shan't. I want to put my arm round you." "Very well; that'll do. Now then, come on, daddy, and say: `Bless you, my children!' Curtain." "What? What d'yer mean by `curtain?' You hold your tongue, miss. Now, Mr Sydney Smithers. Smithers! There's a name for a respectable girl to want to take!" "Well, hang it!" cried the boy, "it's better than Simpkins." "Not it," growled the owner of the latter; but he scratched his head, as if in doubt. "Be quiet, Molly. Now, Mr Smithers, I mean my gal to have her rights." "Yes, Mr Simpkins." "Get it over, Syd." "Yes, sir; I quite agree with you." "That's right, then, so far; but what I say is that you ought to have come straight to me, as her father, and `Mr Simpkins,' says you, `I've took a great fancy to your filly'--daughter, I mean--`and I'm going to make proposals for her 'and,' you says." "Yes, Mr Simpkins; I'm very much attached to your daughter and I've married her." "No, you didn't, young gentleman," cried the old man, irascibly. "That's just what you ought to have done." "Yes, exactly, Mr Simpkins; but, I say, what are you doing to-day about the big race?" "Never you mind about no big race, young fellow. I want to know what you're going to do about the human race. You've married my gal candlestine, as they call it, and I want to know about settlements. You don't expect I'm going to keep you and your wife and family?" "Well, he won't let me," said Syd, in response to a whisper. "Of course he won't," said the trainer. "Not likely. You're a gentleman, I suppose. You won't want to do nothing for your living." "Oh, I don't know," said Syd. "Well, that means you will. That sounds better. But you won't want to come and live here and help serve behind my bar?" "No, I'm blest if I do!" "Oh, dad, drop it," cried the girl. "No, nor I shan't drop it, miss, till I've seen about your rights. Suppose you mean him to come to London and begin figgering on the stage along with you?" "I don't, dad." "Well, I'm glad you've got so much sense in your head, my gal, for, you mark my words, he's the wrong sort. Too short and fat." "Dad!" "Well, so he is, my gal. I dunno what you sees in him."