Alfred and Emily Read Online Free PDF

Mrs. Lane ran down to the gate and embraced Betsy. ‘Oh, welcome, dear Betsy,’ crooned Alfred’s other mother. (‘She’s been more a mother to me than my own ever was.’)
    The women wept in each other’s arms and Mrs. Lane told Alfred he was a lucky man. ‘She’s lovely, Alfred. Oh, well done.’
    At the Redways, at once a difficulty. Bert came in from the pub because Alfred’s fiancée was coming to supper, and he took to her at once, but showed it by teasing and needling, sometimes not very pleasantly, because he was half tight.
    She stood up to him well, while her soon-to-be ‘father-in-law and mother-in-law’ watched silently, and gave her good marks.
    Bert said to Alfred that he was a lucky dog.
    And when the Allied Bank’s annual beanfeast came around again, Betsy was sitting beside Mrs. Lane under the oak tree, applauding when Mrs. Lane indicated she should. There was a pretty good crowd that afternoon, because Alfred Tayler was there, and for the first time Betsy saw her Alfred in his element.
    There were two celebrations for Alfred and Betsy’s marriage, one a real wedding in Kent, where Alfred was surprised to find he was part of a large and amiable family. He would always like other people’s families better than his own. Emily did not go – she was busy with her new home. Daisy went, and Mrs. Lane. There was to be another party for the two, to be given by Mrs. Lane, when the harvest was in. Meanwhile an invitation arrived to Emily McVeagh’s wedding, for Betsy and Alfred. It was a large, elegant invitation on card as fine as best china, and it stood on the breakfast table at the Redways’, and at the sight of it Bert took off into a rage. He had been bad since Betsy came, drinking more, and unpredictablyemotional about everything. ‘Just you look at that,’ he jeered. ‘And who the hell does Emily McVeagh think she is? Lady Muck, that’s what she is.’
    Now Bert had not much noticed Emily before, probably he had scarcely known who she was. Now he went on, ‘Marrying in that church, is she? And I suppose you are going to trot off like a good little girl to the wedding.’
    Betsy said equably, ‘Bert, I’ve known Emily for years. I was a probationer in her ward. I was under her for my training. she was good to me. Some of those sisters were real bullies, so I was lucky to get her.’
    â€˜Sister McVeagh into Lady Muck,’ shouted Bert. And he bowed clumsily, where he sat, a sort of obeisance, knocking over the toast in its rack.
    â€˜Steady on,’ said Mr. Redway. ‘I liked Emily McVeagh. She used to visit Mary Lane.’
    â€˜Well, she won’t be coming now,’ said Bert. ‘She’ll be too grand for that. St Bartholomew bloody Church, and the reception at the Savoy.’ And he grabbed the invitation, apparently about to tear it.
    Betsy took it from him, and said, ‘Bert, Emily is my friend. Please remember that.’
    â€˜Remember it!’ shouted Bert. ‘I expect you’ll be reminding us often enough of your grand friends.’
    Here Mrs. Redway, who kept a sick headache in store for such occasions, rose to her feet, murmuring, ‘My head…’ and left the room.
    â€˜That’s enough, Bert,’ said Mr. Redway.
    â€˜And I suppose Alfred won’t be grand enough for you now,’ said Bert.
    And Betsy, who was usually good for much worse ‘teasing’ from Bert, burst into tears and went to the bedroom.
    Mr. Redway was white with anger. ‘I’ve never been more ashamed…’ And he walked out.
    Alfred said, ‘And now, Bert, it’s time you stopped all this.’ He was probably thinking that ‘all’ included his drinking. But Bert was not drunk. He had, however, reached that stage when a glass of water or a cup of tea could trigger off the drunkenness of the night before.
    â€˜I’m getting