Trouble for Two
NOW although Harroll had been refused a dozen times—not by Miss Delancy, but by her father,—his naturally optimistic spirits suffered only temporary depression; and a few evenings later he asked for her again, making it a bakers' dozen—an uncanny record.
"Won't you let me try?" he persisted.
"No, I won't," said Mr. Delancy.
"Won't you let me try when I become tenth vice-president of the Half-Moon Title Guarantee and Trust—"
"No, I won't."
"When will you let me try?"
There was no reply.
"Well, sir," said the young man, cheerfully, "there must be some way, of course."
"Really, Jim, I don't see what way," said Mr. Delancy, without emotion. "I don't want you for a son-in-law, and I'm not going to have you. That's one of the reasons I allow you the run of the house. My daughter sees too much of you to care for you. It's a theory of my own, and a good one, too."
"Why don't you want me for a son-in-law?" asked the young man, for the hundredth time.
"Can you give me one single reason why I should want you?" asked Mr. Delancy, wearily.
Harroll stood buried in meditation for a few moments. "No," he said, "I can't recall any important reasons at the moment."
"I can supply you with one—your sense of honor,—but it doesn't count in this case, because you wouldn't be in my house if you didn't have it."
Harroll looked at the fire.
"I've told you a hundred times that when my little girl marries, she marries one of her own kind. I don't like Englishmen. And that is all there is to it, Jim."
"Don't you like me?"
"I'm not infatuated with you."
"Well," said Harroll, slowly pacing the rug in front of the fire, "it's curious, isn't it?—but, do you know, I think that I am going to marry Catharine one of these days?"
"Oh, I think not," replied Mr. Delancy, amiably. "And perhaps this is a good opportunity to say good-by for a while. You know we go to Palm Beach to-morrow?"
"Catharine told me," said the young man, placidly. "So I've wired for quarters at The Breakers—for two weeks."
The two men smiled at one another.
"You take your vacation late," said Mr. Delancy.
"Not too late, I trust."
"You think you can afford Palm Beach, Jim?"
"No; but I'm going."
Mr. Delancy rose and stood thoughtfully twirling his monocle by the string. Then he threw away his cigar, concealed a yawn, and glanced gravely at the clock on the mantel.
"May I go in and say good night to Catharine, sir?" asked young Harroll.
Mr. Delancy looked bored, but nodded civilly enough.
"And, Jim," he drawled, as the young man started toward the drawing-room, "I wouldn't go to Palm Beach if I were you."
"Yes, you would, sir—if you were I."
"My boy," said Mr. Delancy, mildly, "I'm damned if I have you for a son-in-law! Good night."
They shook hands. Harroll walked into the drawing-room and found it empty. The music-room, however, was lighted, and Catharine Delancy sat tucked up in a deep window-seat, studying a map of southern Florida and feeding bonbons to an enormous white Persian cat.
"Jim," she said, raising her dark eyes as he sauntered up, "you and father have lately fallen into the disreputable habit
