Edward was angry. Abel's outlook and manner of expression rawed his
nerves.

'I leave all the arrangements to her,' he said stiffly.

'Then the devil aid you,' said Abel, 'for I canna!'

Hazel stood with downcast face, submissive, but ill at ease. She wanted
to spring at her father and scream, 'Ho'd yer row!' for she hated him
for talking so to Edward. Somehow it made her flushed and ashamed for
Edward to be told to 'give her one for herself.' She looked at him
under her lashes, and wondered if he would. There was something not
altogether unpleasant in the idea. She felt that to be ordered about by
young lips and struck by a young man's hand would be, as business men
say, 'quite in order.' She appraised Edward, and decided that he would
not. Had she been able to decide in the affirmative, she would probably
have fallen in love with him there and then.

Edward came over to her and took her hand.

'When will you be my wife, Hazel?' he said.

'I dunno. Not for above a bit.'

'Haw! haw!' laughed Abel. 'Hark at her! Throw summat at er', man!'

'I should prefer your absence,' said Edward, stung to expression at
last.

'Eh?'