"When is it to be, Bartley?" asked his aunt. "You're not the sort to wait long, I reckon."
"It isn't to be," he answered. "You two silly old souls run on so, and can't imagine any woman turning up her nose at me. But unfortunately other people haven't such a good opinion."
"Won't have you!" gasped his parent. "A Stanbury won't take a Crocker!"
"Madge Stanbury won't take this Crocker--which is all that matters."
"The chit!" said Nanny.
"The ninnyhammer!" cried Aunt Susan.
"The sensible girl," answered Bartley. "She's found somebody better--a man as stands to work and will make a finer fashion of husband than ever I should."
"How you can sit there and talk in that mean spirit passes me!" answered his mother. "Have a greater respect for yourself, and let that girl see to her dying day what a fool she's been."
"Who is it? I suppose you got that much out of her?" asked Bartley's aunt.
"It's David Bowden from Ditsworthy, and they've been tokened two days, so, you see, I was a bit behind the fair."