Captain Lote lapsed into silence, drumming the desk with his big fingers. His visitor waited for a few moments. At length he said: “Well, Captain Snow, I have answered your questions and you have answered mine. Do you think we are any nearer an agreement now?” Captain Zelotes seemed to awake with a start. “Eh?” he queried. “Agreement? Oh, I don't know. Did you find any--er--what you might call vital objections in the boy's record?” “No-o. No, all that is all right. His family and his education and all the rest are good enough, I'm sure. But, nevertheless--” “You still object to the young folks gettin' married.” “Yes, I do. Hang it all, Snow, this isn't a thing one can reason out, exactly. Madeline is our only child; she is our pet, our baby. Naturally her mother and I have planned for her, hoped for her, figured that some day, when we had to give her up, it would be to--to--” “To somebody that wasn't Albert Speranza of South Harniss, Mass. . . . Eh?” “Yes. Not that your grandson isn't all right. I have no doubt he is a tip-top young fellow. But, you see--” Captain Lote suddenly leaned forward. “Course I see, Mr. Fosdick,” he interrupted. “Course I see. You object, and the objection ain't a mite weaker on account of your not bein' able to say exactly what 'tis.” “That's the idea. Thank you, Captain.” “You're welcome. I can understand. I know just how you feel, because I've been feelin' the same way myself.” “Oh, you have? Good! Then you can sympathize with Mrs. Fosdick and with me. You see--you understand why we had rather our daughter did not marry your grandson.” “Sartin. You see, I've had just the same sort of general kind of objection to Al's marryin' your daughter.” Mr. Fletcher Fosdick leaned slowly backward in his chair. His appearance was suggestive of one who has received an unexpected thump between the eyes. “Oh, you have!” he said again, but not with the same expression. “Um-hm,” said Captain Zelotes gravely. “I'm like you in one way; I've never met your Madeline any more than you have met Al. I've seen her once or twice, and she is real pretty and nice-lookin'. But I don't know her at all. Now I don't doubt for a minute but that she's a real nice girl and it might be that she'd make Al a fairly good wife.” “Er--well,--thanks.” “Oh, that's all right, I mean it. It might be she would. And I ain't got a thing against you or your folks.” “Humph,--er--thanks again.”