“Oh, how you talk!” exclaimed the delighted Bess. “Who’d think of marrying me?”
“I think, Miss Peters, any one who married you would get his money’s worth.”
“Are you married?” asked Bess in an insinuating tone.
“I believe I am spoken for,” answered Brooke hastily, for it seemed clear that he would not have to sue in vain for the hand of the plump young lady, “but my friend here, Mr. Lane, is single.” Gerald looked alarmed, but was relieved when Bess said, “He’s only a boy. He ain’t old enough to be married.”
“Won’t you sit down and have your supper with us, Miss Peters?”
“No, I couldn’t eat a mite if anybody was looking,” answered Bess bashfully.
“I feel that way myself,” said Brooke. “Please don’t look at me, Miss Peters. Look at Gerald. It makes no difference to him.”
“What nonsense be you two talkin’?” asked the landlady, as Bess went off into another fit of laughter. “I never saw Bess so silly before.”
“It ain’t me, mother. The man is so funny he makes me laugh.”