"Well, it's to be hoped she's going to do well for herself--that's all we've got to do with it, eh? I suppose so," said Mr Wodehouse; "she's nothing to you, is she, but a little girl you've taken a deal of notice of?--more notice than was wanted, if I am any judge. If she does go and marry this fellow from Australia, and he's willing to take the whole bundle back to where they came from, it is the best thing that could happen, in _my_ opinion. Sly young dog, that doctor, though, I must say--don't you think so? Well, that's how it appears to me. Let's see; there was Bessie----; hum! perhaps it's as well, in present circumstances, to name no names. There was _her_, in the first instance, you know; and the way he got out of that was beautiful; it was what I call instructive, was that. And then--why then, there was Miss Marjoribanks, you know--capital match that--just the thing for young Rider--set him up for life." "Papa, pray--_pray_ don't talk nonsense," said Miss Wodehouse, with gentle indignation. "Miss Marjoribanks is at least ten years----" "Oh, stuff!--keep your old-maidish memory to yourself, Molly; who cares for a dozen years or so? Hasn't she all the old Scotchman's practice and his savings?--and a fine woman yet--a fine woman, eh? Well, yes, I think so; and then here's this little wretch of a sister-in-law. Why, the doctor's taken your _role_, Wentworth, eh? Well, I suppose what ought to be your _role_, you know, though I _have_ seen you casting glances at the strange little creature yourself."