“But, Morris, what could I say? I can’t let Rosamund drift into a sort of half-and-half engagement, you know. It isn’t fair to her, and I am responsible for her just as though she were my daughter.”
“Why should it be ‘half-and-half’?” he asked rather defiantly.
“Because she’s too young, and has seen too little of the world, for me to sanction anything else at present,” said Bertha decisively.
Morris was slightly soothed by the fact that she laid all the emphasis on Rosamund’s youth, and not on his own, as he felt his mother would have done.
“Look here, Morris,” said Bertha earnestly. “I’m asking you for Rosamund’s sake to have a little patience. If this is the real thing, it won’t do you any harm to wait for a year or two, or her either. It’ll help you to know one another better, too. Why, you’ve not seen her since you were both children, except for this last week.”
“I knew the first minute I saw her again,” cried Morris eagerly and boyishly.
“I know she’s very attractive,” said Bertha, smiling rather proudly, “though I says it as shouldn’t, since she’s just like my own daughter. You know I’ve had them since their mother died, Morris.”
“I know,” he said.
“Well, then, don’t you think I’ve got just a little right to be consulted?” She looked at him so humorously that Morris laughed a little.
“Yes, of course. I expect I’d want to consult you, anyway, on my own account, you know. You do so understand about things, Mrs. Tregaskis.”