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OUNG CHINNINGTON (passionately)—Mr. Gillte-Edge, I love your only daughter—love her madly, devotedly, wildly, and with all the strength and might of my being! I adore her as a miser loves his hoard of yellow gold, worship her as an idolator worships his fetish. Without her sweet presence ever at my side life to me will be but one long, dreary

(savagely)—I don't care what it will be, young man—you can't have her, and that settles it!

(cheerily)—Oh, all right! all right! If one don't ask he won't receive, vou know. Say, old man, now that it is all over, what do you think of that as a sample of my elocutionary ability, anyhow? Pretty smooth, eh? You see, I had decided to start out as a public reciter in case you refused to accept me as a son-in-law, and I rather guess it's up to me now, all right enough. Well, so long. No hard feelings on my side, I assure you. Any time you happen to be in a town where I am giving my entertainment, just mention your name at the door, and it sha'n't cost you a cent to see the show.