Johnny took her out into the country. They went up over the common and through the woods which lay beyond it. The sky was a pale, cold blue with dark clouds moving down from the north. The leafless trees made a lovely tracery against the sky. But Mirrie had no eyes for anything like that. She liked the light of big electric lamps and the Glorious Technicolour of the films. She did like the feeling of the air on her face. Her eyes were hot and sore from having cried so much. It was nice to have the windows down.
They didn’t talk at first, but when they came out upon another common he drew off on to the grass verge and stopped the car. There was rough ground that sloped away from them on every side, with here and there a clump of birch. Last year’s bracken made a brown carpet. There was blackberry, and gorse, and faded heather. The dark clouds were coming up behind them. Soon they would cover the sky. Johnny turned to her and said,
“Feeling better?”
“Oh, yes. You are kind-everyone is very kind.”
He thought she looked like a kitten that has been out in the rain. You wanted to comfort the little soft thing, to warm it, dry it, give it a saucer of milk-cream if you could lay your hands on it. Certainly Mirrie would prefer cream. Astonishing how quickly a creature accustomed to nothing but skim could become cream-conscious. He had watched this happening with Mirrie, and to his own surprise it had not only amused but touched him. He had it in his mind that looking after her and seeing to it that she got her cream might be an agreeable as well as a highly remunerative job. If she was going to be landed with most of Jonathan’s money she was certainly going to need someone to look after her- and it. He said,
“Don’t cry any more, will you?”
Mirrie’s eyes brimmed over.
“I’ll try-”
“That’s a good girl!”
She said, “He was so-good to me.” Her voice caught, and broke the sentence in two.
Johnny said, “He was very fond of you.”
“Yes-he said he was. He said he felt as if I was his daughter. Johnny-you know he said he was altering his will and he told me he had done it-but you don’t think, do you, that he hasn’t left anything to Georgina?”
Johnny whistled.
“What makes you think of that?”
Her voice went small and tight.
“He was angry with her. I don’t quite know why, but I could see that he was. I wouldn’t like her to be left right out.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t do that. She’s his own niece, and she’s been with him ever since she was three years old.”
“Yes, I know. Johnny-if I’ve got a lot of money-what am I going to do?”
“What would you like to do?”
She looked at him in a considering manner.
“I don’t know. I should like to go on being at Field End. Could I do that?”
“I expect so, if you wanted to. It would depend on who the house was left to.”
“He said he wanted it to be my home.”
“Then it would depend on whether he had left you enough money to keep it up.”
“He said he wanted everyone to know that he thought about me like a daughter.”
If words meant anything at all, that meant that at the worst she shared with Georgina. It might mean a good deal more.
She was gazing at him.
“Do you think I could have a car?”
Her tone was so solemn that he almost burst out laughing.
“Darling, I don’t see why not.”
She continued to gaze.
“I should have to learn to drive.”
“I’ll teach you myself.”
“Oh, Johnny, you are good!”
Johnny Fabian’s conscience had been brought up to know its place. Like an eighteenth-century child it spoke when it was spoken to, but not otherwise. But when Mirrie’s soft little voice told him how good he was it broke all rules and gave him a decided twinge. He said in a hurry,
“People will always be good to you, darling.”
“Will they?”
She put out her hands to him and he took them. She was wearing loose warm gloves. They were too large and too loose, because they had been Georgina ’s. He pulled them off and lifted the little cold hands to his face, kissing first one palm and then the other.
“Oh, Johnny-”
He said, “How could anyone help being fond of you? I oughtn’t to be, but I am.”
“Why oughtn’t you?”
“You’re going to have a lot of money, darling.”
“Does that matter?”
“It wouldn’t if I had a lot too, but I haven’t.”
“Haven’t you got any?”
He gave a rueful laugh.
“A little from an aunt and what I make by honest toil.”
“You buy cars and sell them again?”
“I buy them as cheap as I can and sell them as dear as I can -that’s the idea. If Jonathan has left me anything, I could put the lot into some decent going concern and make quite a good thing of it. I do know about cars.”
“This one isn’t very pretty.”
“Darling, it isn’t a car-it’s a has been. But I do get it to go, which is more than most people would.”
She said with the air of a child dispensing birthday cake,
“If I really have a lot of money I’ll give you some.”
Johnny’s conscience gave him another twinge. He kissed her fingers and said in a laughing voice,
“It can’t be done, darling. At least not just like that.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Well, for one thing you’ll have a guardian till you’re twenty-one, and whoever he is he wouldn’t let you. And even if he did, there’s a silly prejudice against men who take money from girls. You wouldn’t like everyone to cut me, would you? And think how bad it would be for business.”
He felt her hands flutter in his.
“Johnny, you said it couldn’t be done that way. Is there a way it could be done?”
“Well-”
She pulled her hands away and clapped them together.
“What is it-what is it?”
He had a laughing, teasing look.
“Quite impracticable, darling, I’m afraid.”
“Tell me what it is! Tell me at once!”
He said, “Well, I suppose you could marry me.”
Her look changed. Something came into it which was too fleeting for him to be sure of what it might be. She drew in a quick breath and said,
“Could I?”
“Well, people do get married. You will some day. I’m not really suggesting that you should marry me.”
Another of those quick breaths, and then,
“Why aren’t you?”
“Darling, you’re too young.”
The colour rushed into her face.
“Heaps of girls marry when they are eighteen!”
He went on smiling.
“I’m too poor.”
“But if I don’t mind about your being poor?”
He laughed.
“If I was one of those high-minded noble characters, I should say, ‘How can I, darling? People might say I was marrying you for your money’!”