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Page 3
"I don't want to think that anything that I say should lose
him his situation--or whatever you call it," she remarked
slowly. "That would seem--"
"No need to bother," interrupted Ransford. "He'll get another
in two minutes--so to speak. Anyway, we can't have this going
on. The fellow must be an ass! When I was young--"
He stopped short at that, and turning away, looked out across
the garden as if some recollection had suddenly struck him.
"When you were young--which is, of course, such an awfully
long time since!" said the girl, a little teasingly. "What?"
"Only that if a woman said No--unmistakably--once, a man took
it as final," replied Ransford. "At least--so I was always
given to believe. Nowadays--"
"You forget that Mr. Pemberton Bryce is what most people would
call a very pushing young man," said Mary. "If he doesn't get
what he wants in this world, it won't be for not asking for
it. But--if you must speak to him--and I really think you
must!--will you tell him that he is not going to get--me?
Perhaps he'll take it finally from you--as my guardian."
"I don't know if parents and guardians count for much in these
degenerate days," said Ransford. "But--I won't have him
annoying you. And--I suppose it has come to annoyance?"
"It's very annoying to be asked three times by a man whom
you've told flatly, once for all, that you don't want him, at
any time, ever!" she answered. "It's--irritating!"
"All right," said Ransford quietly. "I'll speak to him.
There's going to be no annoyance for you under this roof."
The girl gave him a quick glance, and Ransford turned away
from her and picked up his letters.
"Thank you," she said. "But--there's no need to tell me that,
because I know it already. Now I wonder if you'll tell me
something more?"
Ransford turned back with a sudden apprehension.
"Well?" he asked brusquely. "What?"
"When are you going to tell me all about--Dick and myself?"
she asked. "You promised that you would, you know, some day.
And--a whole year's gone by since then. And--Dick's
seventeen! He won't be satisfied always--just to know no more
than that our father and mother died when we were very little,
and that you've been guardian--and all that you have been!--to
us. Will he, now?"
Ransford laid down his letters again, and thrusting his hands
in his pockets, squared his shoulders against the mantelpiece.
"Don't you think you might wait until you're twenty-one?" he
asked.
"Why?" she said, with a laugh. "I'm just twenty--do you
really think I shall be any wiser in twelve months? Of course
I shan't!"
"You don't know that," he replied. "You may be--a great deal
wiser."
"But what has that got to do with it?" she persisted. "Is
there any reason why I shouldn't be told--everything?"
She was looking at him with a certain amount of demand--and
Ransford, who had always known that some moment of this sort
must inevitably come, felt that she was not going to be put
off with ordinary excuses. He hesitated--and she went on
speaking.
"You know," she continued, almost pleadingly. "We don't know
anything--at all. I never have known, and until lately Dick
has been too young to care--"
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