“Uncle Doug!”
Briggs whirled impatiently in his chair. “Eh?”
Fanny came forward. “Say, Uncle Doug.”
“Well, what is it?”
“What’s the matter?” Fanny asked.
Briggs frowned. “Matter!” he repeated. “What do you mean?”
“You know. What’s the matter between auntie and you?” Fanny added,
brightly. “I don’t mind your being cross with me a bit.”
Briggs softened. “My dear little girl, you mustn’t interfere with
things that don’t concern you.”
Fanny’s eyes flashed. “Please _don’t_! Besides, they do concern
me. Don’t you suppose I care when I see auntie come out of here with
her face just as white and her eyes looking as if they were going to
pop out of her head?”
“You see too much, Fanny.”
“Well, what do you suppose my eyes were made for, anyway?” Fanny cried,
indignantly. “Besides, I didn’t have anything else to do. Guy’d gone
away and left me.”
“What did he do that for?”
“Because I told him to.”
“Have you two been quarreling?” Briggs asked, severely.
“No, we haven’t,” Fanny replied, with an emphatic toss of her head. “I
told him he’d better go and attend to your business, instead of billing
and cooing with me. There were a lot of people who wanted to see you.
So, as you were busy,” she concluded with importance, “of course Guy
had to represent you.”
Briggs rose hastily. “Where are they?” he asked.
As Fanny did not like the tone of the question, she kept her uncle
waiting for a moment. “In the library,” she finally conceded.
“It’s probably Monahan and his gang,” said Briggs, hurrying out of the
room. “I forgot to ask Michael----”
“Well, then, tell Guy--” Fanny called after him, but he disappeared
before she had time to finish the sentence. She stood disconsolate
in the middle of the room. “Nobody seems to care for me around here,”
she said. “I’ve a good mind to go home.” Then she turned and saw Guy
Fullerton smiling at her.
“Hello, Fan!” he said.
Fanny promptly turned her back on him.
“Everything seems to be going wrong this morning,” she said. “I almost
wish I hadn’t come.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Guy walked to the opposite side of the room,
dropped into a chair and rested his head on his hand.
“Now, don’t you go and be silly,” cried Fanny, glancing at him over her
shoulder.
Guy looked relieved. “I thought you were mad with me. Oh, that’s all
right, then. If you could only have some sort of sign to show just
_who_ you’re mad with, you know! Fan,” he went on, softly, “as
long as we’re alone, can’t we--can’t we fix it up? You and--” He
touched his chest with his forefinger.
Fanny gave a little jump. Her eyes beamed. “Sir,” she cried, “is this a
proposal?” Then she added, in a tone of disappointment: “Does it come
like this?”
“You know I’ve been awfully fond of you for a long time,” Guy pleaded.
Fanny smiled into his face. “How long?”
“Well, since last Winter. Since those days we went skating together.”
Fanny clasped her hands rapturously. “Weren’t they glorious! Well, I’ll
say one thing for you, you’re a good _skater_.” Then she rolled
her eyes. “But your dancing!”
“Will you?” said Guy, plaintively.
Fanny dropped into a chair and let her hands rest in her lap. She grew
very thoughtful. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Think about it!” Guy repeated, derisively.
Fanny assumed an injured air. “Yes, they always say that in books. I’m
going to do this in the proper way, even if you don’t.”
Guy looked disconsolate. “Oh, you never take a fellow seriously.”
“Don’t I?” This time Fanny’s voice had the ring of sincerity. “Well,
what do you want me to do?”
“Just say we’re engaged, can’t you?” Guy pleaded.
Fanny rose and drew herself up with dignity. “You must speak to my
father,” she said, with a demure bow.
“Oh, there you are again! You won’t take me seriously for one
consecutive minute.”
Fanny clasped her hands again and held them extended before her. “I
have an idea. Let’s pretend that I’m dad. That’ll be great. Now here’s
dad, walking up and down the library. That’s what he always used to do
whenever I got into a scrape and the governess sent me to him.” She
cleared her throat and thrust her hand into her shirt-waist. “Well,
sir?” she said, in a deep voice.
“Oh, say, now!” Guy exclaimed, in disgust.
Fanny held her head on one side and made a warning gesture. “Oh, I’m
serious about this. You must answer my questions if you want to please
me. If you don’t, I’ll say ‘No’ outright, and I’ll get Uncle Doug to
discharge you. So you’d better look out, or you’ll lose your job.”
In spite of himself, Guy smiled. “All right,” he said, to humor her.
“Fire away!”
Fanny cleared her throat again and threw back her shoulders. “Well,
sir, what can I do for you?”
Guy tried to mimic her assumed voice. “You can give me your child, sir.”
Fanny glared at him. “Now you know very well you wouldn’t talk like
that!” she said with disgust in her tone. She shook her head and drew
her lips tightly together. “I guess you don’t know dad. M’m.”
“Well, what would I say?”
“Something foolish, I suppose,” Fanny replied, carelessly. “But this
is what you ought to say,” she went on, with elaborate politeness, and
assuming a romantic attitude. “Sir, I love your beautiful daughter,
Miss Fanny, and I ask your permission to make her my wife.”
Guy groaned, bending forward till his fingers nearly touched the floor.
“But it takes an awfully fascinating man to talk like that. Now let’s
go on.” Fanny burlesqued her father’s manner again. “So you want to
marry Fanny, do you? Well, since she’s been out of school, you’re about
the tenth man who has asked----”
“What? Do you mean to say that all last Summer, while I was slaving
down in Washington----?”
“This time my father would tell you to leave the house,” said Fanny,
haughtily, with a wave of her hand.
“Now, look here, I don’t like this game,” Guy declared.
“But I like it. Therefore it goes. Now don’t be a silly boy. You might
as well get used to dad’s ways first as last. Ahem! As I said, you are
the--er--the eleventh. Now, what claim have you on my daughter?”
Guy seized the chance. “She’s head and ears in love with me,” he cried,
before she had time to stop him. “She can’t live without me.”
Fanny seized a book and held it in the air. “Do you know what dad would
do if you said that? He’d pack me home to Ashburnham, and I’d have to
stay there all Winter.”
“I had to tell the truth, didn’t I?” Guy asked, meekly.
“Well, dad wouldn’t believe you, anyway,” Fanny replied. Her voice
deepened again. “Young man, since you are thinking of getting married,
I presume you are in a position to support a wife. What is your income?”
Guy looked serious. “I guess I won’t play any more. This is becoming
too personal.”
Fanny held her hand at her ear. “I didn’t quite catch what you said.
_Five_ thousand?”
“_One_ thousand, since you’re determined to know, inquisitive; one
thousand and keep,” Guy replied, snappishly. “I don’t even have to pay
my laundry bills. That’s just twenty dollars a week spending money.”
The light faded from Fanny’s eyes. “And you’ve been sending me all
those flowers on that?”
“Well, flowers don’t cost so much in Summer. I intended to stop when
the cold weather came.”
“But, Guy, dear, I thought you got ever so much more than that! You
poor thing! Why, I spend twice as much as that myself, and I’m always
sending home for more.”
“Well, I can’t help it if I’m not rich,” Guy grumbled, keeping his face
turned from her.
Fanny inspected him carefully, as if taking an inventory. “Do you know
what dad would do?” she asked. Guy knew that her eyes were on him; but
he refused to look at her.
“Eh?” he said.
“If you told him how much you were earning,” Fanny explained.
“Oh, he’d faint away, I suppose!”
Fanny shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t,” she replied, sadly. “He’d just
laugh that big laugh of his. He has enormous teeth. Remember ’em? It’s
fascinating to watch ’em. His sense of humor is awful!”
Guy sighed. “I suppose I might as well give you up,” he said,
remembering vaguely that he had read of a young and interesting lover
who used that speech on a similar occasion.
“Well, I guess not!” Fanny exclaimed. Then she clasped her hands over
her mouth. “Oh, I s’pose I do kind of like you.”
“Why don’t you treat me better, then?” he asked pathetically.
Fanny lowered her head and looked up at him with mournful eyes. “You’re
awfully interesting when you’re sad like this,” she said with satirical
admiration.
Guy twisted impatiently. “Oh!” he exclaimed.
Fanny walked toward him and began to play with the buttons on his coat.
“Say, Guy, what did you take this place for--this place with Uncle
Doug?”
“I thought it would be a good place to see life.”
“To see life!” Fanny repeated, scornfully. [Illustration: “‘_And
you’ve been sending me all those flowers on that?_’”]
“M’m--h’m! And to get into politics, perhaps.”
Fanny burst out laughing. “You! You get into politics?”
Guy looked injured. “I don’t see anything funny about that.”
“And do the things that Uncle Doug does?” Fanny cried.
“Yes,” said Guy, in a loud voice.
Fanny seized him by both arms. “Now, look here. You’re no more fit for
politics than--well, than dad is, and the mere sight of a politician
makes dad froth at the mouth. Oh, he says awful things about ’em!”
“Then he hates your uncle, does he?”
“No, he doesn’t, stupid!” Fanny cried, shaking him. “But he says Uncle
Doug made the greatest mistake of his life when he went into politics.
It spoiled him as a lawyer.”
“Well, what’s all this got to do with us?” Guy asked, drawing away.
“_Us!_” Fanny repeated rapturously. “Isn’t that a nice word? Dad
would never let _us_--well, you know--if you were going to stick
to politics, not to mention the twenty a week.”
“What can I do, then? I’m not clever, like other fellows. Don’t you
suppose I know I’d have lost my position long ago if your uncle wasn’t
the best man in the world?”
Fanny began to bite the tips of her fingers. “I guess I’ll have to
speak to dad myself,” she said, slowly. “I’ll make him give you a job
in the factory.”
“In the factory?” Guy exclaimed, horror-stricken.
Fanny turned upon him indignantly. “Yes. You don’t mean to say! Well,
you’ll have to get over those notions. I suppose you got ’em at
college. Dad’ll make you put on overalls and begin at the bottom. Oh,
dad’s awfully thorough.”
Guy considered the matter. “How much would he give me?”
“Lots of fellows begin at three dollars a week,” said Fanny. Guy looked
at her reproachfully. “Perhaps through influence you may be able to
get as much as ten.” Then Fanny went on: “Now, look here. Dad’s always
been sorry that I wasn’t a boy, so that I could take the business, and
all that. But I guess I’ll take it, all the same. Only you’ll be my
representative. See? After you’ve learned how to run things, dad may
put you in charge of the New York office. Won’t it be grand? We’ll
have a box at the opera and we’ll--” Fanny stopped. Her aunt stood at
the door. “Oh, auntie, how much does it cost to keep house in New York?”
Helen Briggs smiled. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you live in a house or an apartment--on the way you
live--on a thousand things.”
“To live well, I mean. How much does this house cost a year?”
“The rent is three thousand.”
Fanny grew limp. “Ugh!” she cried, shuddering.
“But of course there are plenty of smaller houses much cheaper,” Helen
added.
“It’s an awfully expensive place, New York, isn’t it?” said Fanny, with
a plaintive glance at Guy.
“Yes, awfully,” Helen smiled.
“It makes Ashburnham seem almost attractive, doesn’t it?” Fanny went on.
Helen looked up suspiciously. “What do you want to know all these
things for?”
“Oh!” Fanny turned away inconsequently. Then she faced her aunt again.
“You couldn’t possibly live _well_ on twenty dollars a week,
could you?”
“No; not possibly,” Helen replied, with a smile.
“I don’t see how so many people can afford to get married,” said Fanny
ruefully.