Presently he rubbed his forehead perplexedly: 'I can't make head or tail of it,' he said feebly; 'I don't know who they are, or what they write all this to _me_ for!' ''And it over to me, Matthew; let's see if _I_ can make it any plainer for you,' said his brother-in-law, persuaded that to his powerful mind few things could long remain a mystery. He took the letter, solemnly settled his double eyeglasses well down on his broad nose, coughed importantly, and began to read: 'Dear Sir,' he began in a tone of expounding wisdom--'well, that's straightforward enough--Dear Sir, we have given our best consideration to the--hey!' (here his face began to grow less confident) 'the sweet--what?--ah, sweet bells, sweet bells jangled. What have you been jangling _your_ bells about, eh, Matthew?' 'I think they're mad,' said poor Mr. Ashburn; 'the bells in this house are all right, I think, my dear?' 'I'm not aware that any of them are out of order; they rehung the bell in the area the other day--it's some mistake,' said Mrs. Ashburn. 'Which,' continued Uncle Solomon, 'you 'ave been good enough to submit to us (pretty good that for a bell-'anger, hey?) We regret, however, to say that we do not find ourselves in a position to make any overtures to you in the matter. Well,' he said, though not very confidently, 'you've been writing to your landlord about the fixtures, and these are his lawyers writing back--isn't _that_ it now?' 'What should I write to _him_ for?' said Mr. Ashburn; 'that's not it, Solomon--go on, it gets worse by-and-by!' 'Your one fair daughter also (hullo, Trixie!) we find ourselves compelled to decline, although with more reluctance; but, in spite of some considerable merits, there is a slight roughness (why, her complexion's clear enough!), together with a certain immaturity and total lack of form and motive (you _are_ giddy, you know, Trixie, I always told you so), which are in our opinion sufficient to prevent us from making any proposals to you in the matter.' Uncle Solomon laid down the letter at this point, and looked around open-mouthed: 'I thought I could make out most things,' he said; 'but this is rather beyond me, I must say.' ''Ere are these people--what's their names? Leadbitter and Gandy (who I take it are in the gas-fitting and decorating line)--writing to say in the same breath that they can't come and see to your bells, and they don't want to marry your daughter. Who asked them?--you ain't come down so low in the world to go and offer Trixie to a gas-fitter, I should 'ope, Matthew!--and yet what else _does_ it mean--tell me that, and I'll thank you.' 'Don't ask _me_,' said the unhappy father; 'they're perfect strangers.' 'Trixie, you know nothing about it, I hope?' said Mrs. Ashburn, rather suspiciously. 'No, ma dear,' said Trixie; 'but I don't want to marry either Mr. Leadbitter or Mr. Gandy.'