The old lady shrugged her shoulders.
"Why don't you get married and settle the whole business?" she said.
"Get married!" cried Paula, compelled to smile in spite of her anxiety.
"Certainly. Then your husband can do the worrying, and your uncle could whistle for the money.
"Yes, yes; but who could I marry?" laughed Paula.
The old woman shook her head sagaciously.
"Oh, just look around a little. You won't have to look very far. My Harry's a good boy—as different from his father as chalk is to cheese. He's fine looking, too, and he's a good son—and, Paula, a good son makes a good husband."
"Get married," said Paula musingly, "and get away from here? Yes. That's it—that's it."
"I was speaking to Mr. Ricaby about it," went on Mrs. Parkes.
Paula looked up, surprised.