he peace!" he said, crossly. "That's off, of course."

"You haven't been making her see it this evening--precisely," said
Sibyl, looking at him steadily. "You've talked to her for--"

"For Heaven's sake," he begged, "keep the peace!"

"Well, what have you just been doing?"

"SH!" he said. "Listen to your father-in-law."

Sheridan was booming and braying louder than ever, the orchestra having
begun to play "The Rosary," to his vast content.

"I COUNT THEM OVER, LA-LA-TUM-TEE-DUM," he roared, beating the measures
with his fork. "EACH HOUR A PEARL, EACH PEARL TEE-DUM-TUM-DUM--What's
the matter with all you folks? Why'n't you SING? Miss Vertrees, I bet a
thousand dollars YOU sing! Why'n't--"

"Mr. Sheridan," she said, turning cheerfully from the ardent Jim, "you
don't know what you interrupted! Your son isn't used to my rough ways,
and my soldier's wooing frightens him, but I think he was about to say
something important."

"I'll say something important to him if he doesn't!" the father
threatened, more delighted with her than ever. "By gosh! if I was his
age--or a widower right NOW--"

"Oh, wait!" cried Mary. "If they'd only make less noise! I want Mrs.
Sheridan to hear."

"She'd say the same," he shouted. "She'd tell me I was mighty slow if I
couldn't get ahead o' Jim. Why, when I was his age--"

"You must listen to your father," Mary interrupted, turning to Jim, who
had grown red again. "He's going to tell us how, when he was your age,
he made those two blades of grass grow out of a teacup--and you could
see for yourself he didn't get them out of his sleeve!"

At that Sheridan pounded the table till it jumped. "Look here, young
lady!" he roared. "Some o' these days I'm either goin' to slap you--or
I'm goin' to kiss you!"

Edith looked aghast; she was afraid this was indeed "too awful," but
Mary Vertrees burst into ringing laughter.

"Both!" she cried. "Both! The one to make me forget the other!"

"But which--" he began, and then suddenly gave forth such stentorian
trumpetings of mirth that for once the whole table stopped to listen.
"Jim," he roared, "if you don't propose to that girl to-night I'll send
you back to the machine-shop with Bibbs!"

And Bibbs--down among the retainers by the sugar Pump Works, and
watching Mary Vertrees as a ragged boy in the street might watch a rich
little girl in a garden--Bibbs heard. He heard--and he knew what his
father's plans were now.

CHAPTER VII

Mrs. Ver