s not greatly surprised. I had vaguely suspected his purpose when
he entered the room. I had long foreseen the likelihood of some such
interview as this, had considered what I should say when the time came.
But now it had come, I could say nothing. I sat in silence, looking at
him.

Perhaps he thought I did not understand. At any rate he hastened to
explain.

"I wish your permission to marry your niece," he repeated. "I have no
doubt you are surprised. Perhaps you fancy I am a bit hasty. I suppose
you do. But I--I care a great deal for her, Mr. Knowles. I will try
to make her a good husband. Not that I am good enough for her, of
course--no one could be that, you know; but I'll try and--and--"

He was very red in the face and floundered, amid his jerky sentences,
like a newly-landed fish, but he stuck to it manfully. I could not help
admiring the young fellow. He was so young and handsome and so honest
and boyishly eager in his embarrassment. I admired him--yes, but I
hated him, too, hated him for his youth and all that it meant, I was
jealous--bitterly, wickedly jealous, and of all jealousy, hopeless,
unreasonable jealousy is the worst, I imagine.

He went on to speak of his ambitions and prospects. He did not intend to
remain always in Mayberry as his father's assistant, not he. He should
remain for a time, of course, but then he intended to go back to London.
There were opportunities there. A fellow with the right stuff in him
could get on there. He had friends in the London hospitals and they had
promised to put chances his way. He should not presume to marry Frances
at once, of course. He would not be such a selfish goat as that. All he
asked was that, my permission granted, she would be patient and wait a
bit until he got on his feet, professionally he meant to say, and then--

I interrupted.

"One moment," said I, trying to appear calm and succeeding remarkably
well, considering the turmoil in my brain; "just a moment, Bayliss, if
you please. Have you spoken to Miss Morley yet? Do you know her feelings
toward you?"

No, he had not. Of course he wouldn't do that until he and I had had our
understanding. He had tried to be honorable and all that. But--but he
thought she did not object to him. She--well, she had seemed to like him
well enough. There had been times when he thought she--she--

"Well, you see, sir," he said, "she's a girl, of course, and a fellow
never knows just what a girl is going to say or