irl and succeeds, he is bound in honour to marry her--
even though he were the Emperor of China, and she a--a Hottentot. Now,
Punch, I have made up my mind to like the girl, even though she painted
scarlet circles round her eyes, and smeared her nose with sky-blue--but
you _must_ let your poor old father blow off the steam, for you have
been such a--a donkey!--such a hasty, impatient, sentimental, romantic
idiot, that--another glass of that milk, my boy. Thank'ee, where do you
get it? Beats English milk hollow."

"Got it from one of our numerous cows, daddy," said I, with a short
laugh at this violent change of the subject, "and my Eve made the
butter."

"Did she, indeed? Well, I'm glad she's fit for even that small amount
of civilised labour; but you have not told me yet when I shall see her?"

"That is a question I cannot exactly answer," said I, "but you will at
all events be introduced to-night to her father's mother, and her cousin
(whom we call aunt), as well as to a young lady--a Miss Waboose--who is
staying with us at present. And now, father," I added, "come, and we'll
have a stroll round the farm. I don't expect the ladies back till
evening. Meanwhile, I want you to do me a favour; to humour what I may
call a whim."

"If it's not a very silly one, Punch, I'll do it, though I have not much
confidence in your wisdom _now_."

"It is simply that you should agree, for this night only, to pass
yourself off for a very old friend of mine. You need not tell fibs, or
give a false name. You are a namesake, you know. There are lots of
Maxbys in the world!"

"Weak, my boy; decidedly weak. They'll be sure to see through it and I
won't be able to recollect not to call you Punch."

"No matter. Call me Punch. I'll tell them you are a very familiar old
friend--a sort of relation, too, which will account for the name."

"Well, well," said my father, with a smile of pity, "I'll not object to
humour your whim, but it's weak--worthy of a man who could engage
himself to a miserable red-Indian Hottentot!"

This being finally settled, and my father having been pretty well
exhausted by his ramble round the farm, I set him down on the rustic
chair with a newspaper and left him, saying that I should be back in an
hour or so.

I knew the road by which the waggon was to return, walked along it
several miles, and then waited. Soon it drove up to the spot where I
stood. They were surprised to see me, but more surpr