"Jokes?" But he perceived his mentor was in earnest, and mentally confounded Gwenny for a nuisance. What business had that long-legged, staring, pigtailed brat in her mother's drawing-room?

She had as a fact been brought in to make a third to match the three visitors; but having fulfilled her end, and escorted Sybil Boldero in one direction while Leonore was piloted by her cousin in another, round the gardens--(Sue and her hostess meanwhile sitting in state within)--Gwen's mission was over, and the point was to get rid of her.

It is not so easy, however, to get rid of a spoilt child. Gwen admired George b.u.t.ts very much indeed. She hung about him whenever he came to the house, believed in him whenever he spoke, and had secret ideas of marrying him as soon as she should be grown up. She was now bursting with jealousy and curiosity, and meant to hold her ground by hook or by crook.

"Hadn't you ever met Leonore before, Cousin George?"

The elders exchanged glances.

"No," said Cousin George, bluntly. (d.a.m.n it all, was he to be cross-questioned next?)

"You seemed to like her. How you and she did talk! And you got away from us altogether," proceeded Gwenny, stabbing her own wound as a greenhorn will. "I suppose you think her very pretty?"

"If I do, do you think I should tell you, Tailywags?" He tossed the thick plait of her hair up and down in returning good-humour. After all, he might as well hear if she had anything amusing to say.

"I believe it is only because she wears black," continued Gwenny, watching to see how this was taken. "Black, with a little white stuff about the throat, _is_ so becoming, and Leo doesn't look a bit like a widow now."

"So you noticed that, you observant imp? I say, Aunt Laura, when did this young person of yours become such a prodigy? Perhaps she will tell me what the--the lady under discussion does look like, eh?"--lighting a cigarette,--for free and easy manners prevailed in the b.u.t.t mansion, and every one did as they chose there.

"Just like any other girl," responded Gwen, readily. "And--and I don't think she ought, either."

"Oh, just like any other girl. And, pray, why don't you think she ought?"

"Because she's not; she's a married woman. She was married ever so long ago, when I was little."

"Of course you're awfully big now. And so Mrs. Stubbs--Heavens, what a name!--even though she has lost her husband, is to go on for ever being 'a married woman' in your eyes, is she?"

But here Gwen's mother interposed, having had enough, and burning for more confidential intercourse.

"Of course Gwenny is right, George. But--but you don't quite understand, darling," to her. "And Cousin George is only teasing. Suppose you run away to Miss Whitmore now, and see what she has been about all this time? She will wonder what has become of you."

"Oh, she won't, she's writing letters. She always writes letters when you send for me, and she had----"

"Tell her, love, that the post goes out at----"

"She knows when the post goes out. She knows better than any one else in the house, for she has told me lots of times."

"Go, now, Gwenny. Go, my dear, when I tell you."

"You'll have a handful to deal with when that young lady comes out,"

observed George, bringing his eyes back from the door as it slowly closed upon the reluctant figure. "Gwen's too clever by half for you, Aunt Laura; and, I say, we must both keep our eyes skinned if we are to carry through this affair. She's half suspicious as it is."

"It was your own fault, George. How could you be so foolish as to blurt out what you did before her?"

"Good Lord, I never gave her a thought. However, I'll be more careful in future. Well, now, now she's gone, what do you say? How did it go off?

How did I do? Do you think--eh?"

"I did not exaggerate, did I, George?"

"Exaggerate? You did not come up to the mark. She's a ripper. And I suppose the tin's all right? There's no mistake about _that_?

Because--well, I needn't tell you how things are with me."

"I know--of course. And of course I'd never have asked you to come and meet Leonore Stubbs unless I knew she had been left well off."

"'Well off,' only? I thought you said----"

"Very well off, then. All the neighbourhood rang with the Bolderos' big marriage, and it was big in no other sense. The poor little thing was barely grown up and had been nowhere and seen n.o.body,--and when the husband died she was received back at the Abbey with open arms."

"It's a wonder she hasn't been snapped up before."

"The Bolderos have taken care of that. They have immured her like a nun.

This is positively the first call she has made here."

"She's awfully pretty." He sighed contentedly.

"And she seemed to get on with you?"

"Famously. Flirty little thing."

"Of course there will be others after her, George. You must lose no time."

"I haven't time to lose, my good aunt. Poor devils in Stock Exchange offices can't call their souls their own. I must get back next week.

Luckily I only had a week in August, or I should not have been here now."

"You poor, ill-used individual! Do you mean that you must actually and positively return to your slavery at the risk of losing what would emanc.i.p.ate you from it forever? It can't be, George. It simply must not be. Your uncle must make up some excuse----"

"My uncle Thomas is a great man on his native heath, no doubt, Aunt Laura--but he hardly carries the same weight on the Stock Exchange. No, I must go when the day comes. When Duty calls Love must obey. And it's no use casting away the substance for the shadow. And--and I could think of a dozen other wise sayings _a propos_, but it all comes to this, I've got eight days clear--I'm wound up now like an eight-day clock--and can make my running steadily till these are out. Then, if----"

"You could come down again?"

"If it were worth it, yes."

He smoked thoughtfully and proceeded. "It does seem a chance, and I'm awfully grateful to you and all that for providing it. But supposing the widow is not to be caught, and who's to tell? She knows her own value, you bet--I should be up a tree if I had had a row with the Koellners. I don't want to fall between two stools, you know."

It ended in this, that he was to present himself at Boldero Abbey on the following day, armed with an excuse; and that, as things developed, further counsel as to further progression should be taken.

It was left to Sir Thomas to cast a damper over their hopes. He was not told about them, but he would have been a simpleton indeed if he had not seen for himself--neither his wife nor nephew being wary conspirators,--and directly he was alone with the former, he spoke out with conjugal frankness.

"You think yourself mighty clever? Look out. You have old Boldero to deal with."

"But, my dear, Leonore is quite independent of her father."

"A child like that is never independent. The more money she has, the sharper he will look after it."

"If she chooses to marry again----"

"Now look here, Laura, if G.o.dfrey Stubbs' widow chooses to marry again, she may marry anybody. _Anybody_, d'ye take me? Is it likely she'd take George? Who's George? What's George? An eighth son, and nothing at that.

Not even clever or good-looking."