Chapter 18

Accustomed to think of marrying as his means of advancement, he
somewhat reasonably supposed "refer you to my father" meant consent,
so far as the young lady was concerned, and he determined to improve
the precious moments. Fortunately for his ideas, Mr. Monson did not
enter the room immediately, which allowed the gentleman an
opportunity for a little deliberation. As usual, his thoughts took the
direction of a mental soliloquy, much in the following form.

"This is getting on famously," thought Tom. "Refer you to my father--
well, that is compact and comprehensive, at the same time. I wish her
dandruff had got up when I mentioned only $50,000. Seriously, that is
but a small sum to make one's way on. If I had a footing of my own, in
society, $50,000 MIGHT do; but, when a fellow has to work his way
by means of dinners, horses, and et ceteras, it's a small allowance. It's
true, the Monsons will give me connections, and connections are
almost--not quite--as good as money to get a chap along with--but, the
d---l of the matter is, that connections eat and drink. I dare say the
Monson set will cost me a good $500 a year, though they will save
something in the way of the feed they must give in their turns. I wish I
had tried her with a higher figure, for, after all, it may have been only
modesty--some women are as modest as the d---l. But here comes old
Monson, and I must strike while the iron is hot."

{dandruff = dander--but while "dander" can mean dandruff as well as
temper, the reverse is not true}

"Good morning, Mr. Thurston," said the father, looking a little surprised
at seeing such a guest at three o'clock. "What, alone with my daughter's
fine pocket-handkerchief? You must find that indifferent company."

"Not under the circumstances, sir. Every thing is agreeable to us that
belongs to an object we love."

"Love? That is a strong term, Mr. Thurston--one that I hope you have
uttered in pure gallantry."

"Not at all, sir," cried Tom, falling on his knees, as a school boy reads
the wrong paragraph in the confusion of not having studied his lesson
well--"adorable and angelic--I beg your pardon, Mr. Monson,"--rising,
and again brushing his knees with some care--"my mind is in such a
state of confusion, that I scarcely know what I say."

"Really, I should think so, or you could never mistake me for a young
girl of twenty. Will you have the goodness to explain this matter to me?"

"Yes, sir--I'm referred."

"Referred? Pray, what may that mean in particular?"

"Only, sir, that I'm referred--I do not ask a dollar, sir. Her lovely mind