The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation

Miss Lennard, who was still examining her recovered property, set it hastily down and stared at her visitor. Her colour heightened, and her eyes became inquisitive.

"Take care of—me!" she exclaimed. "Of—whatever are you talking about, Mr. Allerdyke?"

"It's like this," replied Allerdyke, involuntarily squaring himself in his chair. "You see me?—I'm as healthy a man as ever lived!—forty, but no more than five-and-twenty in health and spirits. I've plenty of brains and a rare good temper. I'm owner of one of the best businesses in Yorkshire—I'm worth a good ten thousand a year. I've one of the best houses in our parts—I'm going to take another, a country house, if you're minded. I'll guarantee to make the best husband—"

Miss Lennard dropped back on her sofa and screamed.

"Good heavens, man?" she exclaimed. "Are you—are you really asking me to—to marry you?"

"That's it," replied Allerdyke, nodding. "You've hit it. Queer way, maybe—but it's my way. See?"

"I never heard of—of such a way in all my life!" said the lady.

"You're—extraordinary!"

"I am," said Allerdyke. "Yes—we are out of the ordinary in our part of the world—we know it. Well," he went on after a moment's silence, during which they looked at each other, "you've heard what I have to say. How is it to be?"

The prima donna continued to gaze intently on this strange wooer for a full minute. Then she suddenly stretched out her hand.

"I'll marry you!" she said quietly.

Allerdyke gave the hand a firm pressure, and stood up, unconsciously pulling himself to his full height.

"Thank you," he said. "You shan't regret it. And now, then—a pen, if you please. Sign that."

He handed his betrothed a paper, watched her sign it, and then, picking up the pen as she laid it down, took a cheque-book from his pocket and quickly wrote a cheque. This he placed in an envelope taken from the writing-table. Envelope and receipt in hand, he turned to the door.

"Business first," he said, smiling over his shoulder. "I'll send Chettle off—then we'll talk about ourselves."

He went away to Chettle and put the paper and the envelope in his hand.

"That's the receipt," he said. "T'other's a bit of a present for you—naught to do with the reward—a trifle from me. Ah!—you might like to know that I've just got engaged to be married!"

Chettle glanced round and inclined his head towards the room from which Allerdyke had just emerged.

"What!—to the lady!" he exclaimed. "Deary me. Well," he went on, grasping the successful suitor's hand, and giving it a warm and sympathetic squeeze, "there's one thing I can say, Mr. Allerdyke—you'll make an uncommon good-looking pair!"