‘Certainly not.’
‘I don’t want any one to interfere,’ said Bertha, in a suddenly changed mood, ‘especially not such a stick as that. He might have let it alone.’
‘And if you heard that Captain Alder was—’
‘A repentant prodigal, eh? A sober-minded, sponsible, easy-going, steady money-making Canadian,’ interrupted Bertha vehemently, ‘such as approved himself to his Lordship’s jog-trot mind. Well, what then?’
‘Oh, Birdie, perverse child as ever.’
‘And so you actually despatched my Lord to eat humble pie in my name. You might have waited to see what I thought of the process.’
Bertha jumped up, as if to go and take off her hat, but just at that moment some figures crossed the twilight window, and in another second Adela had sprung into the hall, meeting Mary and Frank, whom she beckoned into the dining-room.
Bertha had followed as far as the room door, when, in the porch, she beheld a tall large form, and bearded countenance. One moment more and those two were shut into the drawing-room.
Mary, Frank, and Adela stood together over the dining-room fire, all smiles and welcome.
‘Doesn’t he look well?’ was Mary’s cry, as she displayed her husband.