There it was again,—that trick-question. Brian felt himself agreeing in spite of himself, though how he was to explain his painful situation to this young woman whom, until a few minutes before, he had never even seen, he did not know. He answered cautiously, speaking half to himself: “That is what Judy said.”
Betty Jo did not understand, and made no pretense,—she never made a pretense of anything. “What did Judy say?” she asked.
“That I had better tell you about it,” he answered.
And the matter-of-fact Betty Jo returned: “Judy seems to be a very particular and common-sensing sort of Judy, doesn't she?”
And Brian realized all at once that Judy was exactly what Betty Jo said.
“But,—I—I—don't see how I CAN tell you, Miss Williams.”
“Why?” laughed Betty Jo. “It is perfectly simple, Mr. Burns, here, now, I'll show you: You are to sit down there on that nice comfortable rock,—that is your big office-chair, you know,—and I'll sit right here on this rock,—which is my little stenography-chair,—and you will just explain the serious business proposition to me with careful attention to details. I must tell you that 'detailing' is one of my strong points, so don't spare me. I really should have my notebook, shouldn't I?”
Again, in spite of himself, Brian smiled; also, before he was aware, they were both seated as Betty Jo had directed.
“But this is not a business matter, Miss Williams,” he managed to protest half-heartedly.
Betty Jo was looking at her watch in a most matter-of-fact manner, and she answered in a most matter-of-fact voice: “Everything is more or less a business matter, isn't it, Mr. Burns?”