I was amazed at Gibson's paltriness; amazed and angry. But not for long. All at once my groom drew himself up as grandly as a knight of romance, and demanded:
"Susie, girl--isn't there a better reason?"
My maid was his equal.
"Yes, Tom, yes," she cried passionately. "There's a better reason. Oh, Tom, I'm in love with you, and I always have been, though I've behaved like a little Beast. And I couldn't never be in love with Lord Ruddington if he was all made of gold. Take me away!"
"Why should I?" asked the radiant lover a minute afterwards, making a descent into the practical. "If it's a bargain, what's the good of running away from the Missis? We sha'n't find such a soft job or such a good old girl again in a hurry. If we run away, she won't have us back."
"But he's coming to-morrow," interrupted Susan in a panic.
"A jolly good thing too!" declared Gibson. "If you're going to give him the push, the sooner the better. Let him come. Give him the straight tip. In fact, I'm not sure," added Gibson meditatively, "that he oughtn't to be made to part with a hundred pound for breach of promise. Cheer up, and let 'em all come!"
"No, no!" cried Susan, terror-stricken. "If I see him, he'll turn me round his little finger. I shall be too scared to say a word. I shall be just like a stuck pig. Besides, he'll ask me about the letters."
"Letters?" echoed Gibson.
"Yes, the letters. Oh, Tom, I've been so wicked. When his first letter came to Traxelby, I copied the answer out of an old book."