They sat opposite one another, seeing a great joke in the impromptu meal. The bread, which he cut in a great chunk, was delicious, and the beer, of course, was nectar. But afterwards, Bertha feared that Craddock must be thinking her somewhat odd.
“D’you think it’s very eccentric of me to come and lunch with you in this way?”
“I think it’s awfully good of you. Mr. Ley often used to come and have a snack with my father.”
“Oh, did he?” said Bertha. Of course that made her proceeding quite natural. “But I really must go now. I shall get into awful trouble with Aunt Polly.”
He begged her to take some flowers, and hastily cut a bunch of dahlias. She accepted them with the most embarrassing gratitude; and when they shook hands at parting, her heart went pit-a-pat again ridiculously.
Miss Ley inquired from whom she got her flowers.
“Oh,” said Bertha coolly, “I happened to meet one of the tenants and he gave them to me.”
“Hm,” murmured Miss Ley, “it would be more to the purpose if they paid their rent.”
Miss Ley presently left the room, and Bertha looked at the prim dahlias with a heart full of emotion. She gave a laugh.
“It’s no good trying to hide it from myself,” she murmured, “I’m head over ears in love.”