XV
“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. “Pleasedon’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 tofinish 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 justwhoyou’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 goodskater.” 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 leavethe 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.Fivethousand?”
“Onethousand, 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.
And you’ve been sending me all those flowers on that?
“‘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 letus—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, likeother 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 itbe 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’tpossibly livewellon 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.