A lady-nurse had care of them, but with this person their father
was not quite satisfied. He spoke of making a change. And here Mrs.
Cross paused, with a little laugh.

"Perhaps uncle thinks of marrying again?" said Bertha.

"Not a bit of it, my dear," replied her mother eagerly. "He expressly
told me that he should _never_ do that. I shouldn't wonder if--but let
bygones be bygones. No, he spoke of something quite different. Last
night we were talking, when the children had gone to bed, and all at
once he startled me by saying--'If only you could come and keep house
for me.' The idea!"

"A wonderfully good idea it seems to me," said Bertha, reflectively.

"But how is it possible, Bertha? Are you serious?"

"Quite. I think it might be the very best thing for you. You need
something to do, mother. If Uncle James really wishes it, you ought
certainly to accept."

Fluttered, not knowing whether to look pleased or offended, surprised
at her daughter's decisiveness, Mrs. Cross began urging objections. She
doubted whether James was quite in earnest; he had admitted that Bertha
could not be left alone, yet she could hardly go and live in his house
as well.

"Oh, don't trouble about me, mother," said the listener. "Nothing is
simpler."

"But what would you do?"

"Oh, there are all sorts of possibilities. At the worst"--Bertha paused
a moment, face averted, and lips roguish--"I could get married."

And so the disclosure came about. Mrs. Cross seemed so startled as to
be almost pained; one would have thought that no remotest possibility
of such a thing had ever occurred to her.

"Then Mr. Warburton _has_ found a position?" she asked at length.

"No, he keeps to the shop."

"But--my dear--you don't mean to tell me--?"

The question ended in a mere gasp. Mrs. Cross' eyes were darkened with
incredulous horror.

"Yes," said Bertha, calmly, pleasantly, "we have decided that there's
no choice. The business is a very good one; it improves from day to
day; now that there are two assistants, Mr. Warburton need not work so
hard as he used to."

"But, my dearest Bertha, you mean to say that you are going to be the
wife of a _grocer_?"

"Yes, mother, I really have made up my mind to it. After all, is it so
_very_ disgraceful?"

"What will your friends say? What will--"

"Mrs. Grundy?" interposed Bertha.

"I was going to say Mrs. Franks--"

Bertha nodded, and answered laughingly:

"That's very much the same thing