He took it, and with an effort gave it the politician's squeeze--the squeeze that makes Hiram Hanks and Bill Butts grin delightedly and say to each other: "B'gosh, he ain't lost his axe-handle grip yet, by a durn sight, has he ?--dog-gone him!" Madam Bowker did not wince, though she felt like it.

Instead she smiled--a faint, derisive smile that made Craig color uncomfortably.
"You young man," said she in her cool, high-bred tones, "you wish to marry my granddaughter." Craig was never more afraid nor so impressed in his life.

But there was no upflaming of physical passion here to betray him into yielding before her as he had before her granddaughter.

"I do not," replied he arrogantly.

"Your granddaughter wants to marry me." Madam Bowker winced in spite of herself.