ck
the men as being most tearful for a comic song.

It was some time before Miss Husted had sufficiently recovered herself
to knock at Poons's door and inform him that she had withdrawn her
opposition to his marriage with her niece. How she made herself
understood is one of the mysteries and must remain so, but Poons
understood and felt that she was now his friend. With a boyish shout
he seized her around the neck and hugged her so tightly and kissed her
so fervently that her principal curl came near severing its connection
with the portion of her hair that really and truly belonged to her. It
was not until she had slapped his face several times, and told him she
was to be his aunt and not his sweetheart, that he released her, and
even then he insisted on holding her hand and telling her how much he
loved Jenny. So much noise did the boy make that Pinac and Fico rushed
out of their room to find out what was the matter.

Poons's explanation to them was nearly as lucid as his previous effort
to enlighten Miss Husted. He threw his arms around their necks and
kissed them on both cheeks and danced them around the room. He pointed
to Miss Husted and tried to kiss her again, just to show his friends
the relationship between them, but that good lady had had enough of
Poons's osculatory manifestations and indignantly threatened to slap
him again if he tried to carry on with her! Jenny joined them and
there was more explaining and still more kissing. When Von Barwig came
back he found them all in an uproar congratulating each other in mixed
American and Continental fashion. His presence added to the general
joy. He kissed Jenny tenderly and formally gave her to Poons. He
squeezed Miss Husted's hand in silence as he realised that his efforts
on behalf of the young couple had been successful and he shook hands
with his friends.

"It is a day of rejoicing, so let us rejoice!" said Von Barwig, as he
emerged from his little room with a violin bow and some music in his
hand. He then took a ring off his finger. "Poons, here! This ring
was given me by your father twenty-five years ago. Wear it for my
sake! For you, Pinac, my Mendelssohn Concerto. See, here is
Mendelssohn's own signature! Fico, here is my Tuart bow. It is broken
in two places, but it is a fine bow."

"What is all this?" asked Pinac.

"It is my birthday!" replied Von Barwig, slightly at a loss for an
answer.

"Your birthday is next month, Anton,"