“Well said,” responded the elder, heartily.  “And that ’s not all, Phil, that ye shall get from it.  I’ve a tidy lot of money loaned to merchants in New York, and I’ll get it from ’em, and we’ll buy the mortgages on your father’s lands.  Who’ll have the whip hand then, eh?  Oh! we’ll smoke the old fox before we’ve done with him.  His brush shall be well singed.”

The compact thus concluded to their common satisfaction, the twain separated, and the squire rode the remaining six miles in that agreeable state of enjoyment which comes from the sense of triumphing over enemies.  His very stride as he stamped through the hall and into the parlour had in it the suggestion that he was planting his heel on some foe, and it was with evident elation that he announced:—­

“Well, lass, I’ve a husband for ye, so get your lips and blushes ready for him against to-morrow!

“Oh, dadda, no!” cried the girl, ceasing her spinet practice.

“Oh, yes!  And no obstinacy, mind.  Phil ’s a good enough lad for any girl.  Where ’s your mother that I may tell her?”

“She’s in the attic, getting out some whole cloth,” answered the girl; and as her father left the room, she leaned forward and rested her burning cheek on the veneer of the spinet for an instant as if to cool it.  But the colour deepened rather than lessened, and a moment later she rose, with her lips pressed into a straight line, and her eyes shining very brightly.  “I’ll not marry the gawk.  No!  And if they insist I’ll—­” Then she paused.

“How did Janice take it?” asked Mrs. Meredith, when the squire had broken his news to her.

“Coltishly,” responded the father, “but no blubbering this time.  The filly’s getting used to the idea of a bit, and will go steady from now on.”  All of which went to show how little the squire understood the nature of women, for the lack of tears should have been the most alarming fact in his daughter’s conduct.

When Phil duly put in an appearance on the following day, he was first interviewed by what Janice would have called the attorney for the prosecution, who took him to his office and insisted, much to the lover’s disgust, in hearing what he had done politically.  Finally, however, this all-engrossing subject to the office-seeker was, along with Philemon’s patience, exhausted, and the squire told his fellow-candidate that the object of his desires could now be seen.

“The lass jumped to her feet as ye rid up, and said she’d some garden matters to tend, so there ’s the spot to seek her.”  Then the father continued, “Don’t shilly-shally with her, whate’er ye do, unless ye are minded to have balking and kicking for the rest of your days.  I took Matilda—­Mrs. Meredith—­by surprise once, and before she knew I was there I had her in my arms.  And, egad!  I never let her go, plead her best, till she gave me one of my kisses back.  She began to take notice from that day.  ’T is the way of women.”