“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.”