Free Dear Trustee by Mary Burchell Page B

sitting here.”
    “Now you’re being too bright,” he growled, giving her a more wary look. “I like you best when you’re amusing and laugh. I don’t want you, or anyone else, lecturing me.”
    “You prefer to do the lecturing yourself, don’t you?” Cecile flashed a smile at him.
    “That’s right.” He grinned again at that, and then said unexpectedly, “I might leave you some money, if you come down here sometimes and talk to me.”
    “I shall come down sometimes, in any case,” Cecile told him, “but I don’t want your money for that.”
    “Nonsense.” He seemed quite nettled at the idea that she should be independent of his whims. “Of course you do. Everyone wants money. Why shouldn’t you want some of mine?”
    “I’m not entitled to it, for one thing,” Cecile said. “You have relations of your own.”
    Uncle Algernon said. “Tcha!” again, with impressive emphasis. “You’re my ward, aren’t you?”
    “Not exactly.” Cecile was becoming quite good at the distinction between a guardian and a trustee. “You’re a trustee, on my behalf, of an almost non-existent estate. I don’t think that constitutes much of a claim on my part.”
    “Well, if you haven’t much estate, you’ll need money, won’t you?” Uncle Algernon pointed out triumphantly. “How are you going to get it?”
    “Work, of course. Like millions of other people,” Cecile said cheerfully. “I learned typing and shorthand when I was at finishing school. We all had to do something practical, as well as the frills. And I have two good languages and a smattering of another. With a refresher course of some sort, I don’t think I’ ll have much trouble getting some sort of secretarial job.”
    “She’s a girl after my own heart,” remarked Uncle Algernon to Maurice. “You’d better marry her. She’d make a man of you.”
    “Thanks.” Maurice pressed his lips together and looked annoyed, as though he were taking all this too seriously , Cecile could not help thinking. “But I ’ll manage my own affairs, if you don’t mind.”
    “You can’t,” retorted Uncle Algernon. “You aren’t a manager by nature. She is. She knows what she wants and she goes straight for it, which is more than you’ll ever do.”
    Then, while Maurice looked glum, he turned back to Cecile and said, “If you’ll ring that bell, you can have some tea. Mrs. Frinton makes good teas. Not that I can eat anything much, myself,” he added, and shook his head in gloomy self pity.
    “I expect you can, if you have congenial company,” replied Cecile, in her most bracing tone. But she rang the bell, and presently a maid appeared, wheeling in a tea-trolley, which looked well laden.
    Over tea he made several other unkind remarks to Maurice, who struggled manfully to remain good-tempered and amiable under what was, obviously, familiar behaviour. And he made only one more reference to his position as Cecile’s trustee, and that was to say he hoped she wouldn’t bother him with too much business. Then, very soon after tea was over, he told them it was time they were going.
    “I have to have a rest before dinner,” he stated firmly. “Doctor’s orders. But come again soon.” This was addressed exclusively to Cecile. “And find out what you can about my great-niece and Gregory Picton.”
    “I’ll come again soon,” Cecile promised. But on the second point she did not commit herself before saying goodbye.
    They were seen off the premises by Mrs. Frinton, who looked as though she might count the teaspoons as soon as they were gone. And, as they drove away from the house, Cecile turned to Maurice and said, “Is he always like that?”
    “Most times,” replied Maurice gloomily.
    “But, Maurice, don’t you think it might be better to stand up to him a little? He seemed to like that with me.”
    “Only because you are a girl—and a novelty.” Maurice seemed depressed. “Anyway, I can’t afford to take risks. And he knows