s; we do not forfeit people's
good opinions, for we have nothing but respect shown us, and----"

But here Mr. Mayne interrupted her flow of quiet eloquence somewhat
rudely.

"Pack of nonsense!" he exclaimed, angrily. "I wonder at your
mother,--I do indeed. I thought she had more sense. You have no right
to outrage your friends in this way! it is treating us badly. What
will your mother say, Dick? She will be dreadfully shocked. I am sorry
for you, my boy,--I am indeed: but, under the circumstances----"

But what he was about to add was checked by a very singular proceeding
on the part of his son; for Dick suddenly took Nan's hand, and drew
her forward.

"Don't be sorry for me, father: I am the happiest fellow alive. Nan
and I have come to an understanding at last, after all these years.
Allow me to present to you the future Mrs. Richard Mayne."

CHAPTER XXXI.

DICK THINKS OF THE CITY.

When Dick had uttered this audacious speech, Mr. Mayne started back,
and his expression of mingled wrath and dismay was so ludicrous that
under any other circumstances his son would have found it difficult to
keep his countenance.

"What! what!" he almost shouted, losing all sense of politeness, and
even of Nan's presence; "you young fool, what do you mean by trumping
up this nonsense and presuming to talk to me in this way?"

Dick thought it prudent to drop Nan's hand,--and, indeed, the girl
shrank away from them both in alarm at this outburst: nevertheless,
his countenance and bearing maintained the same admirable
_sang-froid_, as he confronted his angry parent:

"Now, father, what is the use of calling me names? When a fellow is of
age, and knows his own mind, he does not care a pin for being called a
fool. 'Hard words break no bones,' as our copy-leaves used to tell
us,--no, I have not got that quite right; but that is about my
meaning. Look here, father," he continued, in a coaxing, boyish voice;
"I have cared for Nan ever since she was a little creature so high,"
again reverting to the infantile measurement. "I have always meant to
marry her,--that is, if she would have me," correcting himself, as Nan
drew herself up a little proudly. "Money or no money, there is not
another girl in England that I would have for a wife. I would wait for
her if I had to wait half my life, just the same as she would wait for
me; and so, as I said before, when a fellow has made up his mind,
there is nothing more to say." And here D