"But--bless my soul!" cried Jimmy Marrable; "I forgot! You haven't _got_--" He paused, and appeared to be working out some abstruse problem in his head. "Look here, Joey," he continued presently, "if you aren't married to Hughie, what are you living on?" Joan stared at him in astonishment. "On the money you left behind for me," she said. "What else?" The old gentleman regarded her intently for a moment, and then said:-- "Of course: I forgot. I suppose Hughie pays it to you quarterly." "Yes--into my bank account," replied Miss Gaymer with a touch of pride. "How much?" "Is it _quite_ fair to tell?" inquired Joan, instinctively protecting her fraudulent trustee. "Of course. It was my money in the first instance. Go on--how much?" "Four hundred a year," said Joan. "It was three hundred at first. Hughie told me you hadn't left as much as he expected, and that I should have to be careful. But Ursula Harbord--she is the girl I share a flat with: she is frightfully clever about money and business--told me to ask Hughie what interest I was getting on my capital, or something. I found out for her--four per cent, I think it was--and she said it wasn't _nearly_ enough. There were things called preference shares, or something, that pay ten or twelve per cent; and Hughie must sell out at once, and buy these instead. What's the matter?" Jimmy Marrable had suddenly choked. "Nothing! Nothing!" he said, in some confusion. "A smart girl, this friend of yours! Takes a large size in boots and gloves, I should say, and acts as honorary treasurer to various charitable organisations! Twelve per cent! Aha!" He slapped himself feebly. "And what did Master Hughie say to _that_?" "I could see he didn't half like it," continued Joan; "but Ursula had declared that if I wouldn't allow her to speak to him, she would consult some responsible person; as she was _sure_ Hughie was mismanaging things disgracefully. So to keep her quiet I let her. I think Hughie saw there was something in what she said, though; because he immediately agreed to give me four hundred a year in future instead of three. _Is_ it enough, Uncle Jimmy, or has poor Hughie really made a mess of things, as people say? _Say_ it's enough, Uncle Jimmy! I _know_ he did his best, and I'd rather go without--" "Enough?" Jimmy Marrable turned and scrutinised his ward closely, as if appraising her exact value. Certainly she was very lovely. He whistled softly, and nodded his head in an enigmatical manner. "I'd have done it myself," he murmured darkly. "Enough?" he repeated aloud. "My little girl, do you know how much capital an income of four hundred a year represents?" Joan shook her head. Her experience of finance was limited to signing a cheque in the proper corner. "Well, about ten thousand pounds." "Hoo!" said Miss Gaymer, pleasantly fluttered. "Have I got all that?" "No." "Oh! How much, then?" Jimmy Marrable told her. CHAPTER XIX