“Oh, he’s very well. Of course he’s rather worried about the dissenters. You know they’re putting up a new chapel in Leanham; it’s perfectly dreadful.” “Mr. Craddock mentioned the fact at luncheon.” “Oh, was he lunching with you? I didn’t know you knew him well enough for that.” “I suppose he’s here now,” said Miss Ley; “he’s not been in to say good-bye.” Miss Glover looked at her with some want of intelligence. But it was not to be expected that Miss Ley could explain before making the affair a good deal more complicated. “And how is Bertha?” asked Miss Glover, whose conversation was chiefly concerned with inquiries about mutual acquaintance. “Oh, of course, she’s in the seventh heaven of delight.” “Oh!” said Miss Glover, not understanding at all what Miss Ley meant. She was somewhat afraid of the elder lady. Even though her brother Charles said he feared she was worldly, Miss Glover could not fail to respect a woman who had lived in London and on the continent, who had met Dean Farrar and seen Miss Marie Corelli. “Of course,” she said, “Bertha is young, and naturally high spirited.” “Well, I’m sure, I hope she’ll be happy.” “You must be very anxious about her future, Miss Ley.” Miss Glover found her hostess’s observations simply cryptic, and, feeling foolish, blushed a fiery red. “Not at all; she’s her own mistress, and as able-bodied and as reasonably-minded as most young women. But, of course, it’s a great risk.” “I’m very sorry, Miss Ley,” said the vicar’s sister, in such distress as to give her friend certain qualms of conscience, “but I really don’t understand. What is a great risk?” “Matrimony, my dear.” “Is Bertha going to be married? Oh, dear Miss Ley, let me congratulate you. How happy and proud you must be!” “My dear Miss Glover, please keep calm. And if you want to congratulate anybody, congratulate Bertha--not me.” “But I’m so glad, Miss Ley. To think of dear Bertha getting married; Charles will be so pleased.” “It’s to Mr. Edward Craddock,” drily said Miss Ley, interrupting these transports. “Oh!” Miss Glover’s jaw dropped and she changed colour; then, recovering herself: “You don’t say so!” “You seem surprised, dear Miss Glover,” said the elder lady, with a thin smile. “I am surprised. I thought they scarcely knew one another; and besides--“ Miss Glover stopped, with embarrassment. “And besides what?” inquired Miss Ley, sharply. “Well, Miss Ley, of course Mr. Craddock is a very good young man and I like him, but I shouldn’t have thought him a suitable match for Bertha.” “It depends upon what you mean by a suitable match.” “I was always hoping Bertha would marry young Mr. Branderton of the Towers.” “Hm!” said Miss Ley, who did not like the neighboring squire’s mother, “I don’t know what Mr. Branderton has to recommend him beyond the possession of four or five generations of particularly stupid ancestors and two or three thousand acres which he can neither let nor sell.”