Black Sheep

'Well, you certainly can't blame her for that.'

'I have said I don't! I've done my utmost to bring her about – assured her of my determination to be worthy of Fanny – all to no avail! She is unmoved! Nothing I could say had the least effect on her!'

'You can't tell that. The chances are you made her feel damned queasy.'

'But it's true!' Stacy declared, flushing hotly. 'I'll be a pattern-husband, I swear!'

'Hornswoggle!' said his uncle, not mincing matters.

'No, I tell you!'

'Well, don't! What the devil's the use of telling me that, or anything else? I'm not the girl's guardian!'

'You could help me, if you chose to do it!'

'I doubt it.'

'Yes, yes, I'm certain of it!' Stacy said eagerly, once more refilling his glass. 'Miss Abigail likes you – you're wondrous great with her! I heard how she was talking to you today, and laughing at the things you said to her! If you were to support me, plead my cause –'

'Yes, you're a trifle disguised!' interrupted Miles.

'No such thing! I'll have you know, sir –'

'Oh, not ape-drunk!' said Miles reassuringly. 'Just about half-sprung!'

'I'll engage to see you out, sir!'

Miles looked amused. 'You'd be obliged to knock under! However, I'd as lief you made the attempt rather than talk any more balderdash! I plead your cause? What the devil gave you the notion that I plead any causes but my own? Believe me, it's wide of the mark!'

'You can't be such a – such care-for-nobody as to refuse to lift as much as a finger to assist me!' said Stacy indignantly.

'Oh, yo

u're quite mistaken! I am precisely such a care-fornobody.'

'But I'm your nephew! You can't want me to be rolledup!'

'It's a matter of indifference to me.'

'Well, upon my soul!' Stacy exploded.

'As it would be to you if that fate befell me,' said Miles, slightly smiling. 'Why should either of us care a straw for what becomes of the other?'

Stacy gave an uncertain laugh. 'Damme if ever I met such a queer-card as you are!'

'Don't let it distress you! Comfort yourself with the reflection that it would do you no good if I did choose to recommend you to Miss Abigail Wendover.'

'She would listen to you,' Stacy argued. 'And if she could be brought to consent to the marriage I don't doubt that Wendover would do so too. He doesn't concern himself with Fanny – never has done so! – and his wife don't like her. She isn't going to bring her out next year! I'll lay you a guinea to a gooseberry she'd be glad to see Fanny safely buckled before she brings out her own daughter!'

'Then why waste your eloquence on me? Address yourself to Mrs James Wendover!'

'With Miss Abigail against me?' Stacy said scornfully. 'I'm not such a clunch!'

'My good boy, if you imagine that James Wendover could be persuaded by his sister, or by anyone else, to consent to Fanny's marriage to a basket-scrambler, you're a lunatic!' said Miles brutally.

Stacy drained his fourth glass. 'What'll you wager against the chance that he'll find himself forced to consent?' he demanded, his utterance a little slurred. 'Got to force him to – nothing else to be done to bring myself about!'

'What about Danescourt?'