Florry admitted it.

“I knew it,” Cappy declared.  “I knew it—­and that’s why I exercised the veto on you, Florry.”

Florry’s eyes dropped, and in the corners of them her father thought he detected a glint of tears; whereupon he attacked his egg vigorously.  After a brief silence he said: 

“Of course that means a slight delay in your plans for a June wedding—­”

A tear crept through Florry’s long lashes and dropped unheeded into her grapefruit.  Cappy saw it drop, but resolved to be cruel and ignore it.

“The infernal schemer couldn’t resist the temptation to take a fall out of your old man, Florry; so naturally I had to take a fall out of him; though, at that, I have doubts whether I succeeded.  I think I played into his hand; and now I’m telling you about it to save him the trouble and grief of an explanation he couldn’t make and which you wouldn’t understand—­from him.  Some day my affairs will all be yours, Florry—­yours and Matt’s; and he’ll have to manage them for you.  To manage them well, he must have experience; hence, I decided, in about two flips of a humming-bird’s tail, that it would be a mighty good thing for you and Matt if I forced him into business for himself and, as I informed him, let him pay for that experience with his own money; for that is the only kind of money that will buy him any experience worth while.  No young man ever learned a great deal when some sentimental old fool footed the bill for his tuition fees in the college of hard knocks.”

“Poor Matt!” Florry sobbed.  “He hasn’t—­had anything—­except hard knocks since he was—­fourteen years—­old.”

“Yes,” shrilled Cappy; “and just look at the difference between him and these la-di-da boys that never had any hard knocks!  Hard knocks!  Why, hard knocks keep that devilish fellow in condition!”

“But I’d planned—­we didn’t want to have too long an—­engagement—­”

“I’ll guarantee you, little daughter, you will not have to wait longer than six months.  Please wait—­for my sake.”  And Cappy rose, made his way round the breakfast table and placed his old arms about the light and joy of his existence.  “So, so, now!” he soothed.  “Don’t you cry, honey, until you hear what the old man has to say.  Why, haven’t I always given my little daughter everything she wanted?  You wanted that big sailor, Florry; I saw he wanted you; and he looked awful good to me.  I knew he was man, every inch of him; he was our kind of people and he knew ships and loved them, and so I wanted him for you.  What if he was a big hunk of a sailor with hardly enough money saved up to buy you half a dozen party dresses?  None of the Ricks tribe was ever born or bred in the purple—­and I have money enough for all practical purposes.  So I went after him for you, Florry, and you’re going to get him; so don’t cry about it.”

“Life is so filled with disappointments,” Florry sobbed, notwithstanding this was the first she had ever known.