She counted deliberately, solemnly, but there was a twinkle in her brown eyes.
"One—two—three!"
And a simultaneous "Yes" came as surely as though neither had any objection to the whole proceeding. And furthermore, both men joined in the girl's laugh when they realized how they had been cajoled. To them she was quite irresistible.
"I don't know whatever your aunt will say," her uncle said lugubriously.
"It's not so much what she'll say as—as what may happen up there," protested Dave, his conscience still pricking him.
But the girl would have no more of it.
"You are two dear old—yes, 'old'—sillies. Now, Dave, the mills!"
Betty carried all before her with these men who were little better than her slaves. They obeyed her lightest command hardly knowing they obeyed it. Her uncle's authority, whilst fully acknowledged by her, was practically non-existent. Her loyalty to him and her love for both her guardians left no room for the exercise of authority. And Dave—well, he was her adviser in all things, and like most people who have an adviser, Betty went her own sweet way, but in such a manner that made the master of the mills believe that his help and advice were practically indispensable to her.