Berta.
Well, but there's another thing, Miss. I'm so mortally afraid I shan't be able to suit the young mistress.
Miss Tesman.
Oh well—just at first there may be one or two things
Berta.
Most like she'll be terrible grand in her ways.
Miss Tesman.
Well, you can't wonder at that—General Gabler's daughter! Think of the sort of life she was accustomed to in her father's time. Don't you remember how we used to see her riding down the road along with the General? In that long black habit—and with feathers in her hat?
Berta.
Yes indeed—I remember well enough!—But, good Lord, I should never have dreamt in those days that she and Master George would make a match of it.
Miss Tesman.
Nor I.—But by-the-bye, Berta—while I think of it: in future you mustn't say Master George. You must say Dr. Tesman.
Berta.
Yes, the young mistress spoke of that too—last night—the moment they set foot in the house. Is it true then, Miss?
Miss Tesman. Yes, indeed it is. Only think, Berta—some
