“To whom did you come for counsel on distemper and wall decoration and tapestry hanging? Who told you to cast on at the bottom in mending stocking knees? Who explained to you the principle of the chimney draught, the law of ventilation, and the mechanics of the picture-cord? Answer me, Mrs. Carmichael.”
She combed Master Chris’s hair vigorously and made no response. I saw the victory of a just rebuke within my grasp. I made one more thrust.
“And, finally, Mrs. Carmichael, have you made the treacle puffs you promised for my next visit?”
She yielded.
“Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Butterfield, but they were a failure. I put them into the oven, and all the treacle ran, and made, oh, such a mess!”
I leaned back with the magnanimity of a conqueror, and in that moment lost the battle. Carrie stood in the doorway.
“Treacle puffs, Rollo!” she said. “Of course they run if you forget the bread crumbs. I told you that!”
I was betrayed by her I called sister! A light came into Mrs. Kit’s eyes.
“Did you give him those recipes, Carrie?” she asked.
“Of course I did, Alice, and told him to be sure to tell you about the bread crumbs. And he didn’t! Oh, Rollo”—she turned to me—“and you asked me if they would be sure to run without the bread crumbs!”