"Down went Macassar on his knees, and down went Crinoline into her chair. There was perhaps rather too much distance between them, but that did not much matter now. There he was on both knees, with his hands clasped together as they were wont to be when he said his prayers, with his umbrella beside him on one side, and his hat on the other, making his declaration in full and unmistakable terms. A yard or two of floor, more or less, between them, was neither here nor there. At first the bashful Crinoline could not bring herself to utter a distinct consent, and Macassar was very nearly up and away, in a returning fit of despair. But her good-nature came to his aid; and as she quickly said, 'I will, I will, I will,' he returned to his posture in somewhat nearer quarters, and was transported into the seventh heaven by the bliss of kissing her hand. "'Oh, Macassar!' said she. "'Oh, Crinoline!' said he. "'You must come and tell papa to-morrow,' said she. "He readily promised to do so. "'You had better come to breakfast; before he goes into the city,' said she. "And so the matter was arranged, and the lovely Lady Crinoline became the affianced bride of the happy Macassar. "It was past three when he left the house, but what did he care for that? He was so mad with joy that he did not even know whither he was going. He went on straight ahead, and came to no check, till he found himself waving his hat over his head in the New Road. He then began to conceive that his conduct must have been rather wild, for he was brought to a stand-still in a crossing by four or five cabmen, who were rival candidates for his custom. "'Somerset House, old brick!' he shouted out, as he jumped into a hansom, and as he did so he poked one of the other cabbies playfully in the ribs with his umbrella. "'Is mamma don't know as 'ow 'e's hout, I shouldn't vonder,' said the cabman--and away went Macassar, singing at the top of his voice as he sat in the cab-- 'The loveliest lady that ever was seen Is the lovely Lady Crinoline.' "The cab passed through Covent Garden on its way. 'Stop at the pastry-cook's at the corner,' said Macassar up through the little trap-door. The cab drew up suddenly. 'She's mine, she's mine!' shouted Macassar, rushing into the shop, and disregarding in the ecstasy of the moment the various customers who were quietly eating their ices. 'She's mine, she's mine! With her hair done all _á l'impératrice_, Sweetly done with the best of grease. And now for Somerset House.' "Arrived at those ancient portals, he recklessly threw eighteenpence to the cabman, and ran up the stone stairs which led to his office. As he did so the clock, with iron tongue, tolled four. But what recked he what it tolled? He rushed into his room, where his colleagues were now locking their desks, and waving abroad his hat and his umbrella, repeated the chorus of his song. 'She's mine, she's mine--