“And the impression I gained then,” she added, “has only been strengthened since. You’ll be a very clever man if you prevent Bertha from doing a thing upon which she has set her mind.” “D’you mean to tell me that you’re going to sanction the marriage?” Miss Ley shrugged her shoulders. “My dear Dr. Ramsay, I tell you it won’t make the least difference whether we bless or curse. And he seems an average sort of young man--let us be thankful that she’s done no worse. He’s not uneducated.” “No, he’s not that. He spent ten years at Regis School, Tercanbury; so he ought to know something.” “What was exactly his father?” “His father was the same as himself--a gentleman-farmer. He’d been educated at Regis School, as his son was. He knew most of the gentry, but he wasn’t quite one of them; he knew all the farmers and he wasn’t quite one of them either. And that’s what they’ve been for generations, neither flesh, fowl, nor good red herring.” “It’s those people that the newspapers tell us are the backbone of the country, Dr. Ramsay.” “Let ’em remain in their proper place then, in the back,” said the doctor. “You can do as you please, Miss Ley; I’m going to put a stop to the business. After all, old Mr. Ley made me the girl’s guardian, and though she is twenty-one I think it’s my duty to see that she doesn’t fall into the hands of the first penniless scamp who asks her to marry him.” “You can do as _you_ please,” retorted Miss Ley, who was a little bored. “You’ll do no good with Bertha.” “I’m not going to Bertha; I’m going to Craddock direct, and I mean to give him a piece of my mind.” Miss Ley shrugged her shoulders. Dr. Ramsay evidently did not see who was the active party in the matter, and she did not feel it her duty to inform him. “The question is,” she said quietly, “can she marry any one worse? I must say I’m quite relieved that Bertha doesn’t want to marry a creature from Bayswater.” The doctor took his leave, and in a few minutes Bertha joined Miss Ley. The latter obviously intended to make no efforts to disturb the course of true love. “You’ll have to be thinking of ordering your trousseau, my dear,” she said, with a dry smile. “We’re going to be married quite privately,” answered Bertha. “We neither of us want to make a fuss.” “I think you’re very wise. Of course most people, when they get married, fancy they’re doing a very original thing. It never occurs to them that quite a number of persons have committed matrimony since Adam and Eve.” “I’ve asked Edward to luncheon to-morrow,” said Bertha. Chapter V