He stared at her for a moment with a very natural show of amazement, and burst into a shout of laughter. “It was only a little joke of mine, Sophia. You don’t imagine it’s likely that I should marry at my age.” “As you say, we Sprattes have a remarkable sense of humour,” she replied, dryly. “I can’t help poking fun at you sometimes, my dear. But, as you rightly observed, no one would be such a fool as to marry an old fossil like your humble servant.” But her remarks had brought back to his mind an incident which he would willingly have forgotten. He was still very sore, and the more he thought of it the more foolish he felt himself. It was in no amiable mood, therefore, that he waited for Bertram Railing, who was expected to call that afternoon. Nor was the Canon much pleased with his daughter, and he had mentioned two or three times his annoyance that her wilful disobedience had placed him in an awkward position. Railing was not an easy person to deal with. His plainness and outspoken candour rendered possible a very undignified altercation. But when the young man arrived nothing was visible on the Canon’s face save complete friendliness. They shook hands. “Ah, how good of you to come, dear Railing. So glad to see you.” “Winnie told me she’d be at home this afternoon.” “Of course I didn’t flatter myself that you’d come to see me,” laughed the Canon. “But in point of fact I’ve been wanting to have a little talk with you. It’s a very serious step that you young folks are taking.” “Then we’re wise to take it with a light heart,” cried Railing, gaily. “Ha, ha, capital! Now I should have thought you were both very young to be married.” “I am twenty-eight, sir, and Winnie is twenty-one.” “You neither of you look it,” murmured the Canon, with an amiable bow. “Possibly!” Canon Spratte pulled out the splendid cigarette-case in gold, with initials of diamonds, which a fond admirer had presented to him. He offered it to Railing. “No, thank you. I never smoke.” “I see you have no vices.” The Canon became so bland that it was overwhelming. “Now, my dear fellow, let us discuss this matter in the most cordial way. I need not tell you that I have the very highest esteem for you personally, and the sincerest admiration for your talents. But we live in an age when talent is not always rewarded according to its merits, and I am curious to know upon what you propose to live.” “My income is about a hundred and fifty a year and Winnie has three hundred from her mother.” “You are very well informed,” smiled the Canon, good-naturedly. “Winnie told me,” said Bertram, flushing. “Obviously! I didn’t suppose for a moment that you had examined the will at Somerset House. And do you imagine that Winnie will be content to live on four hundred and fifty pounds a year?” “It’s three times as much as my mother ever had.” “Possibly, but your mother--a most excellent person, Mr. Railing--has moved in rather a different stratum of society from my daughter.”