"Have you ever tried that, Hannah? I shouldn't have thought this was actually worse; but of course when one's tried both—"
"Master Brady, you're teasing me, and you know my meaning quite well." Hannah's voice was positively tearful, and Jack grew alarmed.
"Nonsense! I wouldn't tease you for the world. But look here, I want you to think better of what you said—about carrying the tale to Mr. West. There's an awful lot done by passing things over; you don't know! Let's return these articles—see, it's Cadbury's pillow and Trevelyan's coat, so neither of them set the trap—and let's agree to forgive and forget for once. Won't you?"
Jack could be very gentle and persuasive, and Hannah's heart was not proof against his pleading.
"Well, sir, just this once, since you put it like that, and hask so particular."
"There's an angel! I knew you would. You come to me, Hannah, when you're in any fix, and see if I don't repay you for this. Hullo! here's Frere and his fiddle. I'd better scuttle."
"Yes, Brady, I think you had better," observed Frere. "I heard Mr. West asking for you."
"Ugh! I never like being asked for," remarked Jack, and straightway vanished.
"So peace isn't signed yet," he said to himself. "The campaign has only changed its character, for secret and irregular warfare. I don't seem to have accomplished much so far."
Jack went home that Saturday feeling rather discouraged. He little knew what his accidental interview with Hannah, the housemaid, would result in.