“I’ll send you to bed if you don’t behave yourself,” Wallace replied. Then he went on, with a warning gesture: “And let me tell you one thing. There’s to be no engagement between you two people for a year. Do you understand that?” Fanny looked crestfallen, but in a moment she brightened. Guy bowed respectfully. He seemed glad to accept any terms that would secure Fanny for him. He hadn’t expected such luck as this. “Perhaps it’s just as well,” said Fanny philosophically, as her father started to leave the room. “He couldn’t afford to buy a ring, anyway.” XXIV As soon as Wallace had closed the door, Fanny leaped into Guy’s arms. “Oh, you were perfect!” she cried. “I’m glad you didn’t do as we practised, after all.” Guy kissed her rapturously. “Oh, Fan, I hope you won’t get sick of me!” he said. The telephone rang, and Fanny had to postpone her reply. “There, go and attend to business,” she said, giving Guy a push. She watched him as he held the receiver at his ear. “Hello! Yes. Oh, Farley. What? Mr. Briggs is still downstairs. 500? Well, that looks bad, doesn’t it? Do you mean to say they think he’s--? Oh, impossible!” “What’s impossible?” Fanny cried. Guy listened intently, ignoring her. “No. I think you’d better come here. He’ll want you. I’ll tell him.” “Tell him what?” said Fanny. “Good-bye.” Guy rang off. “Why don’t you answer me? Tell him what?” Fanny heard footsteps in the hall. “Well, my dear,” said Douglas Briggs, opening the door, “I feel a good deal better.” Fanny held her finger at her lips. “’Sh! Guy has something to tell.” Briggs observed that Guy was waiting for a chance to speak. “News?” he asked, nervously. Guy nodded. “They say down at the Citizens’ Club that things are looking rather bad.” Briggs looked steadily at the boy. “Who told you?” “Farley,” Guy replied. “Ah!” Briggs sank into a chair. “If Farley is losing courage--! Well, never mind.” “But you aren’t beaten yet, Uncle Doug,” Fanny exclaimed, resolutely. “What difference does it make--now or two years from now? It’s only a question of time.” Michael tapped on the door and entered with the soft step of one bearing important news. “A boy just come in with this telegram, sir.” “Open it, Guy,” said Briggs. Guy tore the envelope. “These are the figures Farley gave me,” he said. He passed the telegram to Briggs. “It’s all up with me!” said Briggs, just as Helen appeared. “But they haven’t heard yet from the Nineteenth District,” Guy interposed. “We can count on a two-hundred majority there.” “No; West has spent more money there than anywhere else. I shall be surprised if--” Briggs stopped at the sound of the telephone bell. Guy darted for the receiver. “Oh, hello, hello! Is that you, Farley? What? Oh, Bradley. This isn’t the Citizens’ Club, then? Oh, the _Gazette_! No, Farley isn’t here, but he’ll be here in a minute. He’s tearing over from the club in a cab. What district? The Nineteenth? We’ve been waiting for that. How many?”