"I go for a
little walk, and when I come back this--this infernal cockroach has got
its arm round my daughter's waist. Why don't you look after her? Do
you know anything about it?"
His wife shook her head.
"Five feet four and about thirty round the chest, and wants to marry my
daughter!" said the sergeant-major, with a sneer. "Eh? What's that?
What did you say? What?"
"I said that's a pretty good size for a cockroach," murmured Mr. Farrer,
defiantly. "Besides, size isn't everything. If it was, you'd be a
general instead of only a sergeant-major."
"You get out of my house," said the other, as soon as he could get his
breath. "Go on Sharp with it."
"I'm going," said the mortified Mr. Farrer. "I'm sorry if I was rude. I
came on purpose to see you to-night. Bertha--Miss Ward, I mean--told me
your ideas, but I couldn't believe her. I said you'd got more common
sense than to object to a man just because he wasn't a soldier."
"I want a man for a son-in-law," said the other. "I don't say he's got
to be a soldier."
"Just so," said Mr. Farrer. "You're a man, ain't you? Well, I'll do
anything that you'll do.
Pages:
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131