“It’s dashed hard to say, my dear. I expect we shall find there are a few hundreds left. Enough to see you through till you get married. After that it won’t matter.” Uncle Chris flicked a particle of dust off his coat-sleeve. Jill could not help feeling that the action was symbolical of his attitude towards life. He flicked away life’s problems with just the same airy carelessness. “You mustn’t worry about me, my dear. I shall be all right. I have made my way in the world before, and I can do it again. I shall go to America and try my luck there. Amazing how many opportunities there are in America. Really, as far as I am concerned, this is the best thing that could have happened. I have been getting abominably lazy. If I had gone on living my present life for another year or two, why, dash it! I honestly believe I should have succumbed to some sort of senile decay. Positively I should have got fatty degeneration of the brain! This will be the making of me.”
Jill sat down on the lounge and laughed till there were tears in her eyes. Uncle Chris might be responsible for this disaster, but he was certainly making it endurable. However greatly he might be deserving of censure, from the standpoint of the sterner morality, he made amends. If he brought the whole world crashing in chaos about one’s ears, at least he helped one to smile among the ruins.
“Did you ever read ‘Candide’, Uncle Chris?”
“‘Candide’?” Uncle Chris shook his head. He was not a great reader, except of the sporting press.
“It’s a book by Voltaire. There’s a character in it called Doctor Pangloss, who thought that everything was for the best in this best of all possible worlds.”
Uncle Chris felt a touch of embarrassment. It occurred to him that he had been betrayed by his mercurial temperament into an attitude which, considering the circumstances, was perhaps a trifle too jubilant. He gave his mustache a pull, and reverted to the minor key.
“Oh, you mustn’t think that I don’t appreciate the terrible, the criminal thing I have done! I blame myself,” said Uncle Chris cordially, flicking another speck of dust off his sleeve. “I blame myself bitterly. Your mother ought never to have made me your trustee, my dear. But she always believed in me, in spite of everything, and this is how I have repaid her.” He blew his nose to cover a not unmanly emotion. “I wasn’t fitted for the position. Never become a trustee, Jill. It’s the devil, is trust money. However much you argue with yourself, you can’t—dash it, you simply can’t believe that it’s not your own, to do as you like with. There it sits, smiling at you, crying ‘Spend me! Spend me!’ and you find yourself dipping—dipping—till one day there’s nothing left to dip for—only a far-off rustling—the ghosts of dead bank-notes. That’s how it was with me. The process was almost automatic. I hardly knew it was going on. Here a little—there a little. It was like snow melting on a mountain-top. And one morning—all gone!” Uncle Chris drove the point home with a gesture. “I did what I could. When I found that there were only a few hundreds left, for your sake I took a chance. All heart and no head! There you have Christopher Selby in a nutshell! A man at the club—a fool named—I’ve forgotten his damn name—recommended Amalgamated Dyestuffs as a speculation. Monroe, that was his name, Jimmy Monroe. He talked about the future of British Dyes now that Germany was out of the race, and … well, the long and short of it was that I took his advice and bought on margin. Bought like the devil. And this morning Amalgamated Dyestuffs went all to blazes. There you have the whole story!”
“And now,” said Jill, “comes the sequel!”
“The sequel?” said Uncle Chris breezily. “Happiness, my dear, happiness! Wedding bells and—and all that sort of thing!” He straddled the hearth-rug manfully, and swelled his chest out. He would permit no pessimism on this occasion of rejoicing. “You don’t suppose that the fact of your having lost your money—that is to say—er—of my having lost your money—will affect a splendid young fellow like Derek Underhill? I know him better than to think that! I’ve always liked him. He’s a man you can trust! Besides,” he added reflectively, “there’s no need to tell him! Till after the wedding, I mean. It won’t be hard to keep up appearances here for a month or so.”
“Of course I must tell him!”