"You shall have it," Miss Ruston promised.
Burns exclaimed with pleasure over the presentment of a little old lady, knitting before a fire, a faint smile on her face, as if she were thinking of lovely things as she worked. As in the other picture the shadows were soft and hazy, only the surfaces touched by the fireglow showing with distinctness, the whole effect almost illusive, yet giving more of the human touch than any clear and distinct details could possibly have done.
"That is Granny," said Miss Ruston, a gentle note in her eager voice. "My little piece of priceless porcelain which I guard with all the defences at my command. Tell me, Dr. Burns, I shall not be bringing her into any danger if I put her in the little old house, when it is made right?"
"If you are thinking of bringing this old lady here," said he, emphatically, his eyes on the picture again, "you must let me look the place over thoroughly for you first."
"But I've engaged it!" cried his wife's friend, in dismay.
"That doesn't matter. You will call it all off again, if I don't find the place can be made fit," said he. "Old ladies like this shall not be risked in doubtful places, no matter how quaint and artistic the background, not while I am on hand to prevent."
Miss Ruston looked at Mrs. Burns. "Is this what he is like?" said she, in dismay. "I didn't reckon with him!"
"You will have to reckon with me now," said Red Pepper Burns, with coolness.
"But the owner says it can be made perfectly tight. And I have to go back to-night!"
"The owner of a sieve would say it could be made perfectly tight—if it was wanted for a dishpan. And you are at liberty to go back to-night—much as we shall dislike to lose you. I will take time to go over, right now, and make sure of this thing for you."