nd I are _already_ engaged!"

CHAPTER XXV

THE FAMILY BLACK SHEEP

Presently I got in a word:

"Then, Judge, I have your permission to speak to Frances?"

"Permission?" He lifted his hands and eyes. "You certainly have, my
boy--don't I make it clear? Why, I'm simply delighted--and grateful--oh,
so _grateful_ to you!"

And, by Jove, he meant it--there was no mistaking his fervency! But it
made me feel like a silly ass, you know. Custom or no custom, it just
made me a bit nifty to think _her_ father would speak this way. Might be
good form, but it appeared rotten taste--lots of things seem that way,
dash it! Suggested this to Pugsley once, but he was so devilish shocked
couldn't eat his luncheon--wasn't able to fetch a dashed word for four
hours!

"Why, Lightnut," he dropped to a chair, leaning forward, with shining
eyes, "you can't possibly know what this means just at this time! Why,
if you hadn't offered to speak to Francis, it's not likely that any one
else _ever_ would!"

"Judge!" I ejaculated, shocked.

"Who would want to?" And he grimaced horribly.

"Oh, I say now!" I protested warmly.

"My boy, I tell you I know--you _don't_!" He lifted his hand eloquently,
deflecting the corners of his mouth--oh, such a way! "No, siree, I tell
you there's not another living man would dare chance it!" He threw
himself backward, puffing his cheeks at me and walling his eyes
frightfully. "In fact, hereabouts--where Francis is known, there have
been two men--only just two--who ever had the temerity to do it."

"Oh!" I commented. Wondered if one of these was the other chap she was
engaged to.

He proceeded impressively: "One of these, my dear sir, was our rector--a
most charming and venerable old man, now nearly eighty-three and
partially paralyzed and deaf; lives a sweet, patient life all alone, you
know, with no one in the world to care for him. _Well_, sir," he
stiffened dramatically, leveling one finger at me, "do you think that
Francis would even listen to him?"

Did I? Well, dash it, _did_ I?

But I tried to mumble something polite.

"And then--" he puffed as he relighted his cigar, "there's Jack's
chauffeur, you know."

"Eh, Jack's--_what's_ that?" I gripped the arms of my chair.

"Yes," he nodded, "Jack's chauffeur. Oh, I was _so_ disappointed at the
result of his effort!" The old gentleman slipped back in his chair with
a sigh. "Francis just swore at him, you know!"

"By Jove!" I managed to g