“He’s a horrid dancer!” said that young lady.

“Granted.  But when he does dance, he jingles money in his pocket.”

“He’s a perfect fright, pa.  You won’t deny that?”

“I won’t deny that he is a plain, substantial gentleman.  He has immense feet, and he is a little bald.  What of that?”

“Oh! nothing,” replied Clementina, in a tone that signified “Everything.”

Her father caught the irony of the remark, and said: 

“My dear child, I know the natural leaning of your sex to handsome men.  You are like your mother there.  But remember, they never have any money—­as a general rule.  I won’t undertake to explain the curious fact.  But fact it is, you will admit that.”

“Very likely.  But I hate this old Chiffield.”

Mr. Whedell smiled, twirled his double eyeglass a few dozen times round his forefinger, and said: 

“My darling daughter, listen, and you will appreciate the advantages of this match.”

Clementina frowned, and bit her finger nails.

“My child,” continued the fond parent, “I have always concealed my troubles from you.  They can no longer be kept a secret.  This house is not mine.  Most of this furniture is unpaid for.  The last month’s bills at the butcher’s, baker’s, and grocer’s are still due.  I have exhausted my credit, and don’t know where to raise a dollar.  That is my ‘situation,’ as the newspapers say.”

Clementina turned pale with amazement, and could not say a word.

“You are willing to hear me?  I will explain further.  Three years ago, my old friend Mr. Abernuckle failed.  He owned this house, and, wishing to save it from his creditors, he had previously made a sham sale of it to me.  I have occupied it free of rent.  On the strength of this house, I got credit for furniture, for clothes, for our bread and meat.  On the strength of this house, I have borrowed money enough to keep my principal creditors at bay.  On the strength of this house, we occupy to-day a very fair position in society.  On the strength of this house, I propose to marry you.”

His daughter still looked on with open mouth, like one stupefied.

“But, to do this, no time must be lost.  My friend Abernuckle has at last settled with his creditors at fifteen per cent., and wants possession of the house on the 1st of May.  On that day this will be our home no longer.”

There was a fearless pull at the door bell.  “It is a creditor,” said Mr. Whedell.  “I will face him.”

Mr. Whedell went to the door, and returned in a few moments.  “It was the butcher,” said he.  “He had called twice to-day, and, not finding me in, takes this unusual hour to ask for a settlement.  The old excuses would not do.  What do you suppose I told him this time?”

“I can’t imagine.  Something dreadful, I suppose,” was the shuddering reply.

“The man had to be got rid of.  We must have meat.  I was at my wits’ end.  So I took the liberty of telling him, confidentially, that my daughter would marry a wealthy merchant in a few days, and asked him, as a favor, to let the bill run on to the 1st of May.  On that day he should positively be paid.  The man grumbled at first, but finally said he would give me one more trial, and then went away.  Neatly arranged, wasn’t it, my dear?”