CHAPTER XVII.
O’ Thursday let it be: o’ Thursday, tell her,
She shall be married to this noble earl.
Romeo and Juliet.
The news of Bertie’s proposal spread like fire in the family.
Rose had a vision of bridesmaids’ gowns and of belted earls at the wedding. Lionel and Sidney, who always knew everything without being told, scented wedding-cake from afar, and indulged in a great deal of chaff sotto voce at their cousin’s expense.
Adelaide was so excited when the news reached her, that she flattened her nose with the handle of her parasol, and exclaimed with her usual directness: “I wonder if the Norwood people will receive her.”
Like every one else, she took for granted that Judith would not be allowed to let slip so brilliant an opportunity.
A little maidenly hesitation, a little genuine reluctance perhaps—for Bertie was not the man to take a girl’s fancy—and Judith would give further proof of her good sense; would open her mouth and shut her eyes and swallow what the Fates had sent her.
Poor Mrs. Quixano, greatly agitated, vibrated between the Walterton Road and Kensington Palace Gardens, expending quite a little fortune on blue omnibuses.
It took a long time for her brother to convince her that Bertie’s spurious Judaism could for a moment be accepted as the real thing.
“He is not a Jew,” she reiterated obstinately; “would you let your own daughter marry him?”