"But Miss Bertha will be getting herself proposed to—indeed she will. What we are afraid of is that, on that, both sisters will be as angry and unsettled as birds whose nest has been disturbed, and that they will leave the place."
Durgan quite enjoyed his own thrill of curiosity. "Who?"
"The Godsons, father and son—gardeners, you know—have been laying out a new orchard for the ladies. Young Godson is as fine a fellow as we have at the Cove; and Miss Bertha has been lending him books, helping to some education, you know."
"Yes; I have seen them passing—men with blue eyes and rather spiritual faces—father gray, son light brown?"
"Just so. Fine men if they could have had a chance to look over the hedge of their own potato plot. Miss Bertha has made a protégé of the son. Nothing could be more kind and proper, for she has distinction of manner which could never be misunderstood except by the ignorant. In this case it is doing mischief. The General thought I had better mention it to you."
"Why to me?"
"Well, we're trying to work up this region. If these ladies were to leave, it would be a distinct loss. If they stay, their friends will visit them; there is a spell about the beauty of the place; people with means always return."
"Have they friends?"
Durgan in lazy manner asked a question he had asked two weeks before; the answer was the same. "Very regular correspondence, I understand."