The Man With Two Left Feet

She had learned in a hard school to be prepared for sudden blows from the hand of fate, but this one was so entirely unforeseen that it found her unprepared, and she was crushed by it. She knew her grandfather's obstinacy too well to argue against the decision.
    'Oh, no, not at all,' he repeated. 'Oh, no, it wouldn't do.'
    Katie said nothing; she was beyond speech. She stood there wide–eyed and silent among the ruins of her little air–castle. The old man patted her hand affectionately. He was pleased at her docility. It was the right attitude, becoming in one of her high rank.
    'I am very sorry, my dear, but—oh, no! oh, no! oh, no—' His voice trailed away into an unintelligible mutter. He was a very old man, and he was not always able to concentrate his thoughts on a subject for any length of time.
    So little did Ted Brady realize at first the true complexity of the situation that he was inclined, when he heard of the news, to treat the crisis in the jaunty, dashing, love–laughs–at–locksmith fashion so popular with young men of spirit when thwarted in their loves by the interference of parents and guardians.
    It took Katie some time to convince him that, just because he had the licence in his pocket, he could not snatch her up on his saddle–bow and carry her off to the nearest clergyman after the manner of young Lochinvar.
    In the first flush of his resentment at restraint he saw no reason why he should differentiate between old Mr Bennett and the conventional banns–forbidding father of the novelettes with which he was accustomed to sweeten his hours of idleness. To him, till Katie explained the intricacies of the position, Mr Bennett was simply the proud millionaire who would not hear of his daughter marrying the artist.
    'But, Ted, dear, you don't understand,' Katie said. 'We simply couldn't do that. There's no one but me to look after him, poor old man. How could I run away like that and get married? What would become of him?'
    'You wouldn't be away long,' urged Mr Brady, a man of many parts, but not a rapid thinker. 'The minister would have us fixed up inside of half an hour. Then we'd look in at Mouquin's for a steak and fried, just to make a sort of wedding breakfast. And then back we'd come, hand–in–hand, and say, "Well, here we are. Now what?"'
    'He would never forgive me.'
    'That,' said Ted judicially, 'would be up to him.'
    'It would kill him. Don't you see, we know that it's all nonsense, this idea of his; but he really thinks he is the king, and he's so old that the shock of my disobeying him would be too much. Honest, Ted, dear, I couldn't.'
    Gloom unutterable darkened Ted Brady's always serious countenance. The difficulties of the situation were beginning to come home to him.
    'Maybe if I went and saw him—' he suggested at last.
    'You
could
,' said Katie doubtfully.
    Ted tightened his belt with an air of determination, and bit resolutely on the chewing–gum which was his inseparable companion.
    'I will,' he said.
    'You'll be nice to him, Ted?'
    He nodded. He was the man of action, not words.
    It was perhaps ten minutes before he came out of the inner room in which Mr Bennett passed his days. When he did, there was no light of jubilation on his face. His brow was darker than ever.
    Katie looked at him anxiously. He returned the look with a sombre shake of the head.
    'Nothing doing,' he said shortly. He paused. 'Unless,' he added, 'you count it anything that he's made me an earl.'
    In the next two weeks several brains busied themselves with the situation. Genevieve, reconciled to Katie after a decent interval of wounded dignity, said she supposed there was a way out, if one could only think of it, but it certainly got past her. The only approach to a plan of action was suggested by the broken–nosed individual who had been Ted's companion that day at Palisades Park, a gentleman of some eminence in the boxing world, who rejoiced in the name of the Tennessee Bear–Cat.
    What they ought to do, in the Bear–Cat's opinion, was to get the old man out into Washington Square one morning. He of Tennessee would then sasshay up in a flip manner and make a break. Ted, waiting close by, would resent his insolence. There would be words, followed by blows.
    'See what I mean?' pursued the Bear–Cat. 'There's you and me mixing it. I'll square the cop on the beat to leave us be; he's a friend of mine. Pretty soon you land me one on the plexus, and I take th' count. Then there's you hauling me