nchos. He was twenty minutes past scheduled
time, in consequence, and arrived at the spot appointed just as Bob
Barlow had bashed Roger Fane smartly on the head from behind.

Naturally this incident kept his attention engaged for some moments. He
had to overpower the Barlow twin, who was on the alert, and not to be
taken by surprise. The Australian was still in good fighting trim, and
gave Sir James some trouble before he was reduced to powerlessness. Then
a glance had to be given Roger, to make sure he had not got a knock-out
blow. Altogether, Hank Barlow had five minutes' grace indoors with me,
before--the whirlwind. If it had been _six_ minutes----But then, it
wasn't! So why waste thrills upon a horror which had not time to
materialize? And oh, how I _did_ enjoy seeing those twins trussed up
like a pair of monstrous fowls on the kitchen floor! It had been clever
of Sir Jim to place a coil of rope in Roger's car in case of
emergencies. But when I said this, to show my appreciation, he replied
drily that a cattleman's first thought is rope! "That's what you are
accustomed to call me, I believe," he added. "A cattleman."

"I shall never call you it again," I quite meekly assured him.

"You won't? What will you call me, then?"

"Cousin--if you like," I said.

"That'll do--for the present," he granted.

"Or 'friend,' if it pleases you better?" I suggested.

"Both are pretty good to go on with."

So between us there was a truce--and no more Pembertons or even Smiths:
which is why "Smith" never revealed what _he_ thought about what Sir Jim
thought of me. And I would not try to guess--would you? But it was only
to screen Roger, and not to content me, that Sir James Courtenaye
allowed my original plan to be carried out: the heirlooms to be
mysteriously returned by night to the Abbey, and the Barlow tribe to
vanish into space, otherwise Australia. He admitted this bluntly. And I
retorted that, if he hadn't saved my life, I should say that such
friendship wasn't worth much. But there it was! He _had_ saved it. And
things being as they were, Shelagh told Roger that I couldn't reasonably
object if Jim were asked to be best man at the wedding, though I was to
be "best woman."

She was right. I couldn't. And it was a lovely wedding. I lightened my
mourning for it to white and lavender--just for the day. Mrs. Carstairs
said I owed this to the bride and bridegroom--also to myself, as
Brightener, to say nothing of Sir Jim.