“Because you are always saying things like that,” she answered, somewhat resentfully.
“Well, I do call that hard,” complained Mr. Perseus, “to charge a fellow with being untruthful when he was shaking in his shoes from terror at having perhaps let out too much of the truth.”
Olive looked down at his big boots, knitting her brows, and then led the way into the house.
“I’ll get you some dinner. I am sure you are hungry,” she said hospitably, it being about two o’clock in the afternoon.
“I am hungry, starving, mind, body, and soul,” said her visitor in reply.
“I’ll get a chicken-pie for you, that will go some way,” answered Olive with a laugh.
“And if you will talk with me, that will go far to complete the work of charity,” said he.
Olive brought him the food, and he set to work upon it, being evidently, as he said, very hungry.
“Do you know I am beginning to look upon Perfection City as a sort of earthly paradise,” said Mr. Perseus.
“Indeed.”