"If you think so, it shall be this day fortnight next year," said Kattie.
"Oh dear no! I didn't mean that at all. It can't be too near. And you couldn't put it off now, you know, because the Dean has been bespoke. It is a good thing to have the Dean to fasten the knot. Don't you think so, Miss Lawrie?"
"I suppose one clergyman is just the same as another," said Mary.
"So I tell him. It will all be one twenty years hence. After all, the Dean is an old frump, and papa does not care a bit about him."
"But how are you to manage with Mr Newface?" asked Mr Whittlestaff.
"That's the best part of it all. Mr Hall is such a brick, that when we come back from the Isle of Wight he is going to take us all in."
"If that's the best of it, you can be taken in without me," said Kattie.
"But it is good; is it not? We two, and her maid. She's to be promoted to nurse one of these days."
"If you're such a fool, I never will have you. It's not too late yet, remember that." All which rebukes—and there were many of them—Mr Montagu Blake received with loud demonstrations of joy. "And so, Miss Lawrie, you're to be in the same boat too," said Mr Blake. "I know all about it."
Mary blushed, and looked at Mr Whittlestaff. But he took upon himself the task of answering the clergyman's remarks. "But how do you know anything about Miss Lawrie?"