On learning that the rotund widower, Bennett, whom she secretly loved, was a suitor for Leola’s hand, the spinster promptly went into hysterics that she could not have helped to save her life.
She shrieked furiously:
“Oh, the fat villain, the vile deceiver! After all his attentions to me since his poor wife died, to turn around and fall in love with a chit of a girl like Leola! Oh, I could tear him limb from limb, the wretch! And as to marrying him, she shall not—never, never!”
“Oh, really, really!” soothed her employer, but all to no purpose, for, her heart being touched, she could not restrain her excitable feelings, but raved on angrily and tearfully for some time, until her emotion spent itself, the old man having bided his time to this end.
He now observed, sarcastically:
“If you have done making a fool of yourself now, Amanda Tuttle, perhaps you will tell me what you are going to do about it. You cannot marry Bennett if he will not have you.”
“No,” she moaned, tearfully; and he continued, coolly:
“Perhaps you will bring suit for breach of promise.”
Miss Tuttle fairly tore her hair in her humiliation.
“Will you, now?” he repeated.