"You go next, Joey," said Hughie; "then Miss Freshwater, then me."
The lady addressed plunged obediently into the gloomy chasm at her feet. She observed with frank jealousy that the other two did not immediately follow her, and accordingly waited for them in the belfry half-way down.
Presently she heard their footsteps descending; and Miss Freshwater's voice said:—
"I wanted to tell you about it first of anybody, Hughie, because you and I have always been such friends. Nobody else knows yet."
There was a silence, broken only by Hughie's footsteps, evidently negotiating a difficult turn. Then Miss Freshwater's voice continued, a little wistfully:—
"Aren't you going to congratulate me?"
And Hughie's voice, sounding strangely sepulchral in the echoing darkness, replied:—
"Rather! I—I—hope you'll be very happy. Mind that step."
Miss Gaymer wondered what it was all about.
Hughie found an opportunity before the day was over of holding another brief conversation with his uncle, in the course of which he expressed an opinion on the advantages of immediate and extensive foreign travel which sent that opponent of early marriages back to town in a thoroughly satisfied frame of mind.