"You never said anything to him, did you?" she questioned quickly.
"Certainly not."
The next instant Burnett was in the room, and his sister was in his arms.
(Astonishing how coolly he accepted the fact, too.)
"Mr. Denham is coming to me with you, Bob," she said when he released her.
"I've persuaded him."
"How did you do it?" she was asked.
"By undertaking to reconcile him with his aunt, dear," she replied,
blandly. "It's a contract that we've drawn up between us. You know that I
was always rather good in the part of the peacemaker."
As she spoke, her eyes fell warningly on the manifest astonishment of Aunt
Mary's nephew.
"You don't know what you're undertaking, Betty," said her brother. "You
never had a chance to take Aunt Mary for better, for worse--I have."
"I'm not alarmed," said she, "I'm very courageous. I'm sure I'll succeed."
"Can the mender of ways--other people's ways--come in?" asked a voice at the
door.
It was Mitchell's voice, and he came in without waiting for an invitation.
"Is it time that I went?" Mrs. Rosscott asked him, anxiously.
"Half an hour yet."
"Oh, I say Jack," cried Burnett, "let's boil some water in the witch-hazel
pan, and make a rarebit in the poultice pan, and have some tea here."
"Sure," said Jack, suddenly become his blithe and buoyant self again. "You
just take off your hat and look the other way, Mrs. Rosscott, and we'll
have you a lunch in a jiffy."
CHAPTER TWELVE - A TRAP FOR AUNT MARY
In Aunt Mary's part of the country the skies had been crying themselves
sick for the last six weeks.
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