Brian started to speak, but she checked him with: “Please, Mr. Burns, I must not be interrupted when I am considering. Next to the prison,--which we have agreed won't do at all,--you could do nothing that would make Auntie Sue more unhappy than to spoil the happiness she has in your not knowing what you have done to her. That is very clear, isn't it? And think of her miserableness if, after all these weeks of happy anticipation, your book should never be published. No, no, no; you can't rob Auntie Sue of her happiness in you just because you stole her money, can you?” And Brian knew in his heart that she was right. “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 by her apparent indifference to the revelation he had made of his character. “Auntie Sue,”--she answered,--“just Auntie Sue. Come,--we must go.” “How in the world can I ever face her!” groaned Brian. “You won't get the chance at her, for awhile, with me around;--she will be so busy with me that she won't notice anything wrong with you. So you will get accustomed to the conspiracy feeling before you are even suspected of conspiring. You know, when one has once arrived at the state of not feeling like a liar, one can lie with astonishing success. Haven't you found it so?” They laughed together over this as they went toward the house.