"But how is it possible, Bertha? Are you serious?"
"Quite. I think it might be the very best thing for you. You need something to do, mother. If Uncle James really wishes it, you ought certainly to accept."
Fluttered, not knowing whether to look pleased or offended, surprised at her daughter's decisiveness, Mrs. Cross began urging objections. She doubted whether James was quite in earnest; he had admitted that Bertha could not be left alone, yet she could hardly go and live in his house as well.
"Oh, don't trouble about me, mother," said the listener. "Nothing is simpler."
"But what would you do?"
"Oh, there are all sorts of possibilities. At the worst"—Bertha paused a moment, face averted, and lips roguish—"I could get married."
And so the disclosure came about. Mrs. Cross seemed so startled as to be almost pained; one would have thought that no remotest possibility of such a thing had ever occurred to her.
"Then Mr. Warburton has found a position?" she asked at length.
"No, he keeps to the shop."
"But—my dear—you don't mean to tell me—?"