"What's that?" Fellingham gasped. "Good heavens, Mr. Smith, what do you
mean?"

"Pick up your pipe, my lad. Girls choose as they please, I suppose"

"Her intended, did you say, sir? What can that mean?"

"My dear good young fellow, don't make a fuss. We're all going to stay
here, and very glad to see you from time to time. The fact is, I
oughtn't to have quarrelled with Mart Tinman as I've done; I'm too
peppery by nature. The fact is, I struck him, and he forgave it.
I could n't have done that myself. And I believe I'm in for a headache
to-morrow; upon my soul, I do. Mart Tinman would champagne us; but,
poor old boy, I struck him, and I couldn't make amends--didn't see my
way; and we joined hands over the glass--to the deuce with the glass!--
and the end of it is, Netty--she did n't propose it, but as I'm in his
--I say, as I had struck him, she--it was rather solemn, if you had seen
us--she burst into tears, and there was Mrs. Cavely, and old Mart, and me
as big a fool--if I'm not a villain!"

Fellingham perceived a more than common effect of Tin man's wine. He
touched Van Diemen on the shoulder. "May I beg to hear exactly what has
happened?"

"Upon my soul, we're all going to live comfortably in Old England, and no
more quarreling and decamping," was the stupid rejoinder. "Except that I
did n't exactly--I think you said I exactly'?--I did n't bargain for old
Mart as my--but he's a sound man; Mart's my junior; he's rich. He's eco
. . . he's eco . . . you know--my Lord! where's my brains?--but
he's upright--'nomical!"