They stood together in the obscurity of the shabby little hall, and Hughie, surveying the flamboyant but homely figure before him, wondered what the future might hold in store for this little household. It all depended, of course, on-- "Mrs. Lance," he said suddenly, "tell me--do you--love him?" "I do!" replied Mrs. Lance, in a voice which for the moment relegated her patchouli and dyed eyebrows to nothingness. "And does he--love you?" "He _does_--thank God!" "You are both all right, then," said Hughie, nodding a wise head. "Nothing matters much--except that!" "That's true," said Mrs. Gaymer. "But--I wonder how _you_ knew!" she added curiously. "Good-bye!" said Hughie. * * * * * As Hughie stood in the darkening street a church clock began to chime. He looked at his watch. It was six o'clock, and he had promised faithfully to be at Joey's entertainment at eight! He had good reason for his absence, it is true, but a reason is not always accepted as an excuse. "I've fairly torn it, this time!" he reflected morosely. He was right. Early next morning he arrived at the village station by the newspaper train, and made his way on foot to Manors. A sleepy housemaid was sweeping out the hall, which was strewn with _confetti_,--some cotillion figures had been included in last night's festivities,--and as Hughie made his way to his dressing-room, intent upon a bath and shave before breakfast, he reflected not without satisfaction that, despite Joey's prospective fulminations, he had escaped something by missing his train. On his dressing-table he found a note, addressed to him in Joan's handwriting. It said:-- DEAR HUGHIE,--To-night at the dance Mr. Haliburton asked me to marry him. Being a dutiful ward above all things, I have referred him to you. He is coming to see you to-morrow afternoon--that is, if you are back. I hope you had a good time in town. J. CHAPTER XVIII _EX MACHINA_ Miss Joan Gaymer, pleasantly fatigued after last night's dissipation, reclined in a canvas chair on the lawn at Manors. She had just finished reading a letter which had arrived by the afternoon post. It was from her brother Lance, and conveyed, probably a good deal more fully than Hughie himself would have done, the reasons for Hughie's absence on the previous evening. Joan's brow was puckered thoughtfully, and she surveyed the tips of her small shoes, which were cocked at an unladylike altitude upon a stool in front of her, with a profundity of maiden meditation which was perhaps explained by the fact that she had received a proposal of marriage the evening before, and was expecting the proposer to come and second his own motion at any moment. To her entered suddenly Jno. Alex. Goble. "Yon felly!" he intimated austerely.