fidgets had seized upon the whole company, he rushed his fence. "Ahem!
I must ask you, my friends, to fill your glasses in honour of an event
--an event--that has just transpired in our midst--that--that I am
sure will interest you all--that--in short, my dear daughter Deborah
--and the man of her choice--who knows, I hope, what a lucky dog he is--"

"He does!" Claud interjected; and there was eager dumb-show all
round the table, everyone--again excepting Guthrie--leaning forward
to cast wreathed smiles at the seated couple. "I have given my
consent," said Mr Pennycuick--"I have given my consent. My daughter
shall be happy in her own way--and I hope he'll see to it that she
gets all she bargains for. He is the son of my oldest friend, a man
that was better than a brother to me--the whitest, straightest--But
there's no words to say what he was. Only, the son of such a man--
anybody with Billy Dalzell's blood in him--ought to be--if he isn't--"

"He is!" sang Deb, in her rich, ringing voice. "Oh, please, don't say
any more, father!"

"Well, my dear, I know I am no hand at speech-making, but I can wish
you luck, both of you, and I do. And I want our friends here--old
friends of the family--to do the same. Good wishes mayn't bring good
fortune, but for all we know they may do something towards it; and
anyway, she may as well have all her chances. Ladies and gentlemen,
long life and happiness to Deborah Pennycuick and her husband that is
to be!"

A general turmoil broke out, glass-clinkings, cheers, handshakings;
kissings, with a sob or two from the overwrought. And Guthrie, with no
heart upon his sleeve, bowed and drank with the rest. When the