After a happy half-hour Zorah felt it was her duty to return to her master, so the lovers took a fond farewell of each other, and Sir Caractacus returned to the breakfast-room.
“Jessie,” said Sir Caractacus, “I think you really love your poor old father?”
“Indeed, papa, I do.”
“Then you will, I trust, be pleased to hear that my declining years are not unlikely to be solaced by the companionship of a good, virtuous, and companionable woman.”
“My dear papa,” said Jessie, “do you really mean that—that you are likely to be married?”
“Indeed, Jessie, I think it is more than probable! You know you are going to leave me very soon, and my dear little nurse must be replaced, or what will become of me?”
Jessie's eyes filled with tears—but they were tears of joy.
“I cannot tell you papa—dear, dear, papa—how happy you have made me.”
“And you will, I am sure, accept your new mamma with every feeling of respect and affection.”
“Any wife of yours is a mamma of mine,” said Jessie.
“My darling! Yes, Jessie, before very long I hope to lead to the altar a bride who will love and honour me as I deserve. She is no light and giddy girl, Jessie. She is a woman of sober age and staid demeanour, yet easy and comfortable in her ways. I am going to marry Mr. Gay's cook, Zorah,”
