Alfred and Emily Read Online Free PDF Page B

tired of it, Bert. When it comes to making Betsy cry, then that’s enough.’
    â€˜But I was only teasing,’ said Bert, really upset, both by his father’s going, and by Alfred. ‘I was just joking, that was all.’
    â€˜I don’t know how often these days I have to comfort Betsy when she cries because of you.’
    â€˜You’re making a fuss about nothing,’ blustered Bert.
    â€˜Bert, if you can’t stop goading Betsy I’m going to take her to live at the Lanes’ until our house is done.’
    â€˜You can’t do that…you wouldn’t do that…’ And now Bert was really shaken.
    â€˜Yes, I will,’ said Alfred. ‘Listen, Bert, just listen…’ And Alfred leaned forward, grabbed Bert by the shoulders, to make him listen. ‘Betsy is my wife,’ said Alfred. ‘She has to come first.’
    Bert, shocked, was ready to cry himself. ‘But, Alfred, you wouldn’t…you couldn’t.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Alfred.
    â€˜But it’s not as bad as that,’ said Bert. ‘It’s simply not…’
    â€˜You make her cry and I have to tell her you don’t mean it, but now it’s enough.’
    â€˜But I love Betsy,’ said Bert. ‘I don’t make her cry, I just tease her a little.’
    â€˜Well,’ said Alfred, looking Bert hard in the face, ‘and I love her, and she’s my wife.’
    Bert said, ‘But you’ve only known her a little while.’ And then, because of the absurdity of it, he went red and said, ‘I’ll say I’m sorry,’ and he rushed to the bedroom Betsy had taken refuge in, knocked, and ran in. Betsy was crying on her bed.
    â€˜Betsy,’ Bert shouted at her. ‘Betsy, I’m sorry. I’m a clumsy brute. I’m so sorry, Betsy.’
    Alfred waited a few minutes, then pushed the door open. Bert was kneeling on the floor by Betsy, his head on her lap. It looked as if he might be asleep. Betsy gestured, ‘Rescue me…’ And Alfred went to Bert, lifted him, saying, ‘Now, come on, old son, that’s enough.’ And he put his arm around Bert and steered him out of the room.
    â€˜Thank you,’ he heard from Betsy, as the two left.
    Betsy and Daisy were to be bridesmaids at Emily’s wedding, and today was the day Betsy was to go up to London for a rehearsal and to fit her dress.
    She was to go with Mrs. Lane, who was matron of honour.
    Soon Betsy came out of the room, dressed for London, and the two men were still at the breakfast table.
    She did not look at Bert, but said to Alfred, ‘I’m leavingnow. Perhaps you had better not come.’ Bert had been weeping, the sick, self-pitying tears of the alcoholic: it looked as if Alfred had been giving him a real talking-to.
    Alfred had been going to London with her: Betsy, Alfred and Mrs. Lane, a festive little party.
    Outside the house Mr. Redway was standing, apparently waiting for her.
    â€˜I’ll go with you,’ he said.
    Betsy and her father-in-law proceeded up the path, which soon became a muddy lane.
    When they reached the rutted mud, Mr. Redway said, ‘Hold on, I’ll carry you across.’ He put a large arm around the girl and lifted her, not only for the ten yards or so of the bad part, but until there was no mud. He set Betsy down gently and said, ‘Don’t mind Bert. He’s not so bad, really. And I think your Alfred will sort him out.’
    Betsy was grateful, and said, ‘Thank you. I’m silly to get so upset.’
    Meanwhile Bert had said to Alfred, ‘You are going to stay with me? You aren’t going to London?’
    â€˜No, I’m staying with you,’ said Alfred. But he was wondering how much of this kind of adapting to Bert’s weaknesses he must expect in the future.
    â€˜Come on, let’s go and have a look at the corn, Bert.’
    Bert did not again mention Emily, or