Wallace looked indignant. “And yet you want to marry my daughter! Well, I like your nerve, young man!” Fanny suddenly stood between them. She had evidently been listening at the door. “That’s just what I like, too, dad. But it doesn’t seem to be cutting any ice now.” Then she turned to Guy. “I’m ashamed of you! After all our practicing, too! Now look here, dad,” she went on, putting her hand on her father’s shoulder. “I can’t live without Guy.” She whispered to the young fellow: “See how much better I do it.” “In fact,” she went on, in a loud voice and with a languishing glance, “I should die without him.” Wallace pulled down his waistcoat. “Well, go ahead and die!” he said, doggedly. “It would be money saved for me.” Fanny’s face assumed a look of reproach. “Isn’t it awful to hear a father talk like that? Now, dad, you’ve always blamed me for not being a boy, though everybody knows boys are the most expensive things. Think of the money they spend in college, and all it costs to get ’em out of scrapes! Now, here’s a son for you all ready-made, with his wild oats sown and ready to buckle down to hard work.” “Look here,” said Wallace. “What does all this mean, anyway?” “It means,” said Fanny, imitating her father’s tone, “it means that you’ve got to give this young man a job.” “What?” “You’ve got to give him a job!” Fanny repeated, loudly. “A job?” Wallace echoed, still mystified. Fanny nodded vigorously. “M’m--h’m!” “Where?” Wallace asked, glancing vaguely round the room, as if searching for a spot where Guy might be safely employed. “In the factory,” said Fanny, decisively. Wallace pointed toward Guy, who stood looking helpless and foolish. He felt as children do when their mothers discuss in their presence their appearance and their infantile diseases. “What? Him?” Wallace asked. “Yes, _him_,” Fanny declared, resentfully. “Now don’t you go and make fun of your future son-in-law, dad.” Wallace was still struggling with astonishment, either real or assumed. “In the factory?” “Yes,” said Fanny, lifting her eyebrows. Wallace faced Guy. “You’re willing to soil those white hands of yours, sir?” Guy laughed and blushed, instinctively putting his hands behind him. “Oh, yes,” he replied. “Glad of the chance.” Wallace still appeared incredulous. “And take ten dollars a week for the first year?” Fanny dashed toward Guy and threw her arm protectingly across his shoulders. “What?” she exclaimed, indignantly. “My precious! Ten dollars a week!” “I’ll take anything you think I’m worth, sir,” said Guy, over her head. “With his intellect, and all he learned at Harvard!” Fanny protested. “Never, dad! You must give him twenty-five, or I’ll cast you off!” “If you show that there’s any good stuff in you, I may give you fifteen after three months,” said Wallace. “Thank you, sir,” said Guy, humbly. Fanny dropped her arm, clasped her hands and, with lowered head, she walked toward her father. “Will you give us your blessing, sir?” she asked.