“I cannot imagine Berty giving any one any occasion for gossip,” said Roger, proudly.
“Nor I—well, go on, what did Tom say?”
“He said, ‘What does this mean, Stanisfield? Berty is for ever on the river with the Mayor, he is for ever dangling about her house, and that park she is getting in shape for the children. If I were you I’d put a word in Mrs. Travers’s ear. Don’t speak to Berty.’”
“Poor Tom!” said Grandma.
“He’s jealous, I suppose,” said Roger. “Still, if he talks, some one else may talk. What does it mean that Jimson comes here so much? You don’t suppose he has taken a fancy to Berty?”
Grandma smiled. “Yes, I do, a strong and uncommon fancy. He is perfectly fascinated by her.”
Roger’s jaw fell, and he smote with his fist on the arm of the rocking-chair. “Get rid of him, Grandma. Don’t have him round.”
“Why not—he’s an honourable man.”
“But not for Berty—you don’t know, Grandma. He’s all right morally, but he’s vulgar—none of our set go with him.”