BERTHA went home, fuming, knowing perfectly well that Edward had really given the orders which she had countermanded, but glad of the chance to have a final settlement of rights. She did not see him for several hours.
“I say, Bertha,” he said, when he came in, “why on earth did you stop those men cutting down the beeches on Carter’s field? You’ve lost a whole half-day’s work. I wanted to set them on something else to-morrow, now I shall have to leave it over till Thursday.”
“I stopped them because I refuse to have the beeches cut down. They’re the only ones in the place. I’m very much annoyed that even one should have gone without my knowing about it. You should have asked me before you did such a thing.”
“My good girl, I can’t come and ask you each time I want a thing done.”
“Is the land mine or yours?”
“It’s yours,” answered Edward, laughing, “but I know better than you what ought to be done, and it’s silly of you to interfere.”
Bertha flushed. “In future, I wish to be consulted.”
“You’ve told me fifty thousand times to do always as I think fit.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind.”
“It’s too late now,” he laughed. “You made me take the reins in my own hands and I’m going to keep them.”