intentions! Thunderation, hain't a chap 'sposed to have intentions
when he hangs round a gal who has money like my Ann 'Liza! I tell you
what, Thomas,' and his manner became very insinuating and frank, 'as
nigh as I can kalkerlate I'm worth three millions, fair and square, and
there's three on 'em to divide it amongst--May Jane, Bill, and Ann
'Liza. Now, s'posin' we say three into three million, don't it leave a
million?'

Tom acknowledged that it did, and Peterkin continued:

'Jess so. Now I ain't one of them mean skunks that wants his folks to
wait till he's dead afore they enjoys themselves; and the day my Ann
'Liza is married, I plank down a million in hard cash for her and her
husband to do what they darned please with; cut a dash in Europe as Hal
is doin', if they like, or cut a splurge to hum, it's all one to me. I
call that square, don't you?'

Tom admitted that he did, and Peterkin went on:

'Now, then, I ain't goin't to have Ann 'Liza's affections trifled with,
and if I catch a feller a doin' on't, d'ye know what I'll do?'

Tom could not guess, and Peterkin continued:

'I'll lick him within an inch of his life, and then set the dogs on him,
and heave him inter the river! See?'

It was not a warm day, but Tom was perspiring at every pore as he saw
presented to him the choice between a million or to be 'licked within an
inch of his life and then dogged into the river.' Naturally he chose the
first as the lesser evil of the two, and began to lie as he had never
lied in his life before. He was very glad, he said, that Peterkin had
broached the subject, as it made matters easier for him by showing him
that his suit might not be rejected, as he had feared it might be.

'You know, of course, Mr. Peterkin,' he said, 'that I am a poor young
man, with no expectations whatever, for though Uncle Arthur has settled
something upon father, I cannot depend upon that, and how could I dare
to look as high as your daughter without some encouragement?'

'Encouragement, boy? Great Scott!' and releasing Tom's arm, Peterkin hit
him a friendly slap, which nearly knocked him down. 'Great Scott! What
do you call encouragement? When a gal is so flustified at seeing you,
and so tickled that she tetters right up and down, while her mother
hunts heaven and earth for tit-bits to tickle your palate with--quail on
toast, mushrooms, sweet-breads, and the Lord knows what--ain't that a
sign they are willin'? Thunder and guns! what woul