"So, you see," Betty Jo continued, "the only possible way to do is to
go right along just as if nothing had happened. And there is this final
consideration,--which must be a dark secret between you and me,--when
the book is finished, you must see to it that every penny that comes
from it goes to Auntie Sue until she is paid back all that she lost
through you. Now, isn't that pretty fine 'considering,' Mr. Burns?"

And Brian was convinced that it was. "But," he suggested, "the book may
not earn anything. Nothing that I ever wrote before did."

"You never wrote one before just like this, did you?" came the very
matter-of-fact answer. "And, besides, if your book never earns a cent,
it will do Auntie Sue a world more good than your going to prison for
her. That would be rather silly, now that you think of it, wouldn't it?
And now that we have our conspiracy all nicely conspired, we must hurry
to the house before that man arrives with my things."

She went for the manuscript as she spoke. "See," she cried, "it is quite
dry, and not a bit the worse for its temperamental experience!" She
laughed gleefully.

"But, Miss Williams," exclaimed Brian, "I--I--can't understand you!
You don't seem to mind. What I have told you about myself doesn't seem
to--to--make any difference to you--I mean in your attitude toward me."

"Oh, yes, it does," she returned. "It makes me very interested in you,
Mr. Burns."

"But, how can you have any confidence--How can you help me with my book
now that you know what I am?" he persisted, for he was sincerely puzzled