“Well, upon my word,” he said, “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” replied Miss Ley, “but I keep calm.”
“It’s very simple,” said Bertha. “I got engaged last night, and as I say, I mean to be married exactly four weeks from to-day—to Mr. Craddock.”
“What!” cried Dr. Ramsay, jumping up in astonishment and causing the floor to quake in the most dangerous way. “Craddock! What d’you mean? Which Craddock?”
“Edward Craddock,” replied Bertha coolly, “of Bewlie’s Farm.”
“Brrh!!” Dr. Ramsay’s exclamation cannot be transcribed, but it sounded horrid! “The scoundrel! It’s absurd. You’ll do nothing of the sort.”
Bertha looked at him with a gentle smile, but did not trouble to answer.
“You’re very emphatic, dear doctor,” said Miss Ley. “Who is this gentleman?”
“He isn’t a gentleman,” said Dr. Ramsay, purple with vexation.
“He’s going to be my husband, Dr. Ramsay,” said Bertha, compressing her lips in the manner which with Miss Ley had become habitual; and turned to that lady: “I’ve known him all my life, and father was a great friend of his father’s. He’s a gentleman-farmer.”