"Several things," said Jimmy, sitting down. "I'll take them in order. I'll start with our bright friend, Galer." "Galer!" "Of New York, according to you. Personally, I should think that he's seen about as much of New York as I have of Timbuctoo. Look here, McEachern, we've known each other some time, and I ask you, as man to man, do you think it playing the game to set a farmer like poor old Galer to watch me? I put it to you?" The policeman stammered. The question chimed in so exactly with the opinion he had just formed, on his own account, of the human bloodhound who was now in the cellar making the peace with his injured fellow worker. "Hits you where you live, that, doesn't it?" said Jimmy. "I wonder you didn't have more self-respect, let alone consideration for my feelings. I'm surprised at you." "Ye're----" "In fact, if you weren't going to be my father-in-law, I doubt if I could bring myself to forgive you. As it is, I overlook it." The policeman's face turned purple. "Only," said Jimmy, with quiet severity, taking a cigar from the box and snipping off the end, "don't let it occur again." He lit the cigar. Mr. McEachern continued to stare fixedly at him. So might the colonel of a regiment have looked at the latest-joined subaltern, if the latter, during mess, had offered to teach him how to conduct himself on parade. "I'm going to marry your daughter," said Jimmy. "You are going to marry me daughter!" echoed Mr. McEachern, as one in a trance. "I am going to marry your daughter." The purple deepened on Mr. McEachern's face. "More," said Jimmy, blowing a smoke ring. "_She_ is going to marry me. We are going to marry each other," he explained. McEachern's glare became frightful. He struggled for speech. "I must congratulate you," said Jimmy, "on the way things went off tonight. It was a thorough success. Everybody was saying so. You're the most popular man in the county. What would they say of you at Jefferson Market, if they knew? By the way, do you correspond with any of the old set? Splendid fellows, they were. I wish we had some of them here tonight." Mr. McEachern's emotions found relief in words. He rose, and waved a huge fist in Jimmy's face. His great body was shaking with rage. "You!" shouted the policeman. "You!" The fist was within an inch of Jimmy's chin. Outwardly calm, inwardly very much alive to the fact that at any moment the primitive man in him might lead his prospective father-in-law beyond the confines of self-restraint, Jimmy sat still in his chair, his eyes fixed steadily on those of his relative-to-be. It was an uncomfortable moment. Mr. McEachern, if he made an assault, might regret it subsequently. But he would not be the first to do so. The man who did that would be a certain James Pitt. If it came to blows, the younger man could not hope to hold his own with the huge policeman.