I magnanimously put aside criticism of her coffee, and went on with a wave of my hand.
“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?”
“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!”
I was lost. Mrs. Carmichael rose, and put aside the brush and comb.
“So, Mr. Butterfield,” she said. “I begin to see. You laid a trap for me. You got Caroline to coach you in things before coming to see me, and edited the recipes! Let me remember. You told me, did you not, that brown sugar improved poached eggs?”
“Mrs. Carmichael----” I began. She silenced me with a gesture.
“You advised me, did you not, that maccaroni should be kept in a dark place for fear it should sprout?”
“That, Mrs. Carmichael, was on the authority of the _Times_. You surely----”
Again the peremptory finger reduced me to dumbness.
“And you stepped in after all my blunders, and airily set me right! Mr. Butterfield, you are an unspeakable deception!”
That was my thanks. Carrie and I might conspire to do good by stealth--I might go out of my way to gather hints on pastry--and because, forsooth, this woman’s execution was not equal to the brilliance of the idea, I was to be branded as a fraud! The brown sugar was an original notion; and if, forsooth, like the _Great Eastern_, it turned out unmanageable in practice, that did not detract from the boldness of the conception. Women are so conservative; they lack the true inventor’s spirit.