It was not an impressive effort--very few proposals are. But a performance of this kind may miss the mark as a spectacle and yet, by the indulgence of the princ.i.p.al spectator, achieve its end. Even thus Hughie failed, and for various reasons.

In the first place, he proposed directly after breakfast, which, as Joey pathetically observed to Mrs. Leroy long afterwards, was just the sort of brutal thing he would do. A woman, especially if she be young, likes to be won, or at any rate wooed, in a certain style. A secluded spot, subdued light, mayhap a moon; if possible, distant music--all these things tell. If Hughie had paid a little more attention to stage-effects of this kind he might have found his ward more amenable. Being a Marrable, he brushed aside these trappings and came straight to what he fondly imagined was the point, little knowing that to a young girl romance and courtship make up one great and glorious vista, filling the eye and occupying the entire landscape, while marriage is a small black cloud on the distant horizon.

His actual method of procedure was to sit heavily down beside his ward as she enjoyed the morning sun in a corner of the lawn, and say,--

"Joey, I want to talk to you--on business."

"All right, warder," replied Miss Gaymer meekly; "fire away!"

"I suppose you know," said Hughie, a little dashed, "that all your affairs have been left in my hands?"

"I do, worse luck!" said Miss Gaymer frankly. "And that reminds me, Hughie dear, I should like a trifle on account. You won't refuse poor Joey, will you?"

She squeezed her guardian's arm in a manner which a Frenchman would have described as _tres caline_.

"I think I had better put you on an allowance," said Hughie.

Joan's eyes danced.

"Oh, you _ripper_! How much?"

"Can't say," replied Hughie, "until I've been up to town and seen the bankers."

"When are you going?"

"To-morrow: that's why I wanted to talk to you to-day. You see, your money is in two parts, so to speak. One lot is tied up in such a way that it can't be touched until poor Uncle Jimmy's death is actually proved."

Joan's blue-grey eyes were troubled.

"Hughie," she said, "is there _any_ hope? I still like to think so."

Hughie shook his head. "Not much," he said. "In fact, none. It is known that he went with that crack-brained expedition of Hymack's up the Congo,--to study the Rubber Question on the spot,--and the last letter he sent home said that he was suffering from black-water fever, and it is also known that the expedition came back without him. And--all that was two years ago, Joey."

Joan nodded her head submissively.

"Poor Uncle Jimmy!" she said softly.

"Still," continued Hughie stoutly, "you never know. I have sent a man out to make inquiries, and if he fails, perhaps I shall go myself. But until we learn something definite the will can't be proved. However, he left me very full instructions what to do in case he did not come back, so I must carry them out. There is plenty for you to go on with. I shall run up to town to-morrow, and when I come back I'll let you know how much it is, and how much a year I can allow you."

Miss Gaymer clasped her hands and sighed happily.

"We _will_ have a time, Hughie!" she said. "I'll stand treat."

"Thank you," said Hughie gravely.

There was a long silence. Hughie, suddenly ill at ease,--he had arrived at Part Two of his morning's syllabus,--made fatuous attempts to roll a cigarette. His ward sat with a rapt expression in her widely-opened eyes, mentally visualising a series of charitable enterprises (ranging from a turquoise pendant for Mildred Leroy to a new cap for the cook) made feasible by the sudden prospect of wealth.

Presently Hughie cleared his throat in a heart-rending manner, and said, in what he afterwards admitted to himself was entirely the wrong sort of voice,--

"Joey, I think you and I had better marry one another."

Miss Gaymer, who was more used to this sort of thing than her companion, turned and eyed him calmly.

"And why?" she asked.

There was only one possible answer to this question, and Hughie should have given it with the full strength of his heart and soul and body.

But--well, reserve is a curious and paralysing thing. All he said was,--

"I think it would be very suitable; don't you?"

"For you or for me?" inquired Miss Gaymer.

"For both of us," replied Hughie. "No--for me!" he added, his habitual modesty getting the better of him.

"In what way?" continued Miss Gaymer, with unnatural calm.

"Well--Uncle Jimmy was very keen about it," said Hughie desperately.

"You're a dutiful nephew, Hughie," observed Joan approvingly.

"And then," continued the suitor, "as I have been made your guardian, and all that, I think I am in a position to take care of you, and look after your money, and so on."

"You mean it would make it easier for you to manage my affairs?" said Miss Gaymer helpfully.

"Yes," said Hughie, feeling that he was getting on.

"Any more reasons?" inquired Miss Gaymer, with a docile appearance of intelligent interest.

Hughie made an immense effort, and grasped his chair until the veins stood out on his hands. _Parturiunt montes_--at last.

"Well, Joey," he said at last, "we have always been pals, and all that.

I mean, we have known each other for a long time now, haven't we? You even offered to marry me once,"--he laughed nervously,--"when you were a kiddie. Do you remember? It seems to me we should get on first-rate together--eh? What's your opinion?"

_Ridiculus mus!_

Miss Gaymer sat up in her chair, and turned upon the unfortunate young man beside her.

"And you _dare_," she said, "to come to a girl like me with a proposal like that! You sit there and tell me that you have taken me over from Uncle Jimmy like a--like a parcel from a porter, and that you have been saddled with my money and affairs, so perhaps it would be simplest and save trouble if you married me! _Me!_" she repeated, "who have to keep men off with a stick!"

The last sentence was a mistake. It was an inartistic and egotistical climax to a perfectly justifiable tirade. Joan realised the fact the moment she had uttered the words, but poor Hughie was too much occupied in retiring into his sh.e.l.l to notice anything. He had laid bare his heart, in his own fashion, for the first time in his life, and this was the result. Never again! He burned inwardly, like a child who has been laughed at by grown-ups.

"I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "My mistake! Shan't occur again."

Joey's ear was caught by the tone of his voice, and conscience gave her a twinge. She patted Hughie's arm in a friendly way.

"Old boy," she said, suddenly contrite, "I've made you angry, and I've hurt you. I'm sowwy--sorry, I mean! (I'm a bit upset, you see)," she said, smiling disarmingly. "But I _can't_ marry you, really. I couldn't _bear_ to be married at all at present. It seems so--so unnecessary. I don't see what I should get out of it. That's a selfish thing to say, I suppose, but I'll try to explain a girl's point of view to you. You're a terrible child in some respects, so I'll do it quite simply."

She stroked his sleeve in a motherly fashion, and continued:--