I was interrupted no more in the business of preparing for the birthday dinner till it was time for me to smarten myself up for receiving the company.  Just as I had got my white waistcoat on, Penelope presented herself at my toilet, on pretence of brushing what little hair I have got left, and improving the tie of my white cravat.  My girl was in high spirits, and I saw she had something to say to me.  She gave me a kiss on the top of my bald head, and whispered, “News for you, father!  Miss Rachel has refused him.”

“Who’s ’him’?” I asked.

“The ladies’ committee-man, father,” says Penelope.  “A nasty sly fellow!  I hate him for trying to supplant Mr. Franklin!”

If I had had breath enough, I should certainly have protested against this indecent way of speaking of an eminent philanthropic character.  But my daughter happened to be improving the tie of my cravat at that moment, and the whole strength of her feelings found its way into her fingers.  I never was more nearly strangled in my life.

“I saw him take her away alone into the rose-garden,” says Penelope.  “And I waited behind the holly to see how they came back.  They had gone out arm-in-arm, both laughing.  They came back, walking separate, as grave as grave could be, and looking straight away from each other in a manner which there was no mistaking.  I never was more delighted, father, in my life!  There’s one woman in the world who can resist Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite, at any rate; and, if I was a lady, I should be another!”

Here I should have protested again.  But my daughter had got the hair-brush by this time, and the whole strength of her feelings had passed into that.  If you are bald, you will understand how she sacrificed me.  If you are not, skip this bit, and thank God you have got something in the way of a defence between your hair-brush and your head.

“Just on the other side of the holly,” Penelope went on, “Mr. Godfrey came to a standstill.  ‘You prefer,’ says he, ’that I should stop here as if nothing had happened?’ Miss Rachel turned on him like lightning.  ’You have accepted my mother’s invitation,’ she said; ’and you are here to meet her guests.  Unless you wish to make a scandal in the house, you will remain, of course!’ She went on a few steps, and then seemed to relent a little.  ‘Let us forget what has passed, Godfrey,’ she said, ‘and let us remain cousins still.’  She gave him her hand.  He kissed it, which I should have considered taking a liberty, and then she left him.  He waited a little by himself, with his head down, and his heel grinding a hole slowly in the gravel walk; you never saw a man look more put out in your life.  ‘Awkward!’ he said between his teeth, when he looked up, and went on to the house—­’very awkward!’ If that was his opinion of himself, he was quite right.  Awkward enough, I’m sure.  And the end of it is, father, what I told you all along,” cries Penelope, finishing me off with a last scarification, the hottest of all.  “Mr. Franklin’s the man!”