"Oh! not that; but—but—"
"He's so—so peculiar."
"Yes, he is," says I, "if integrity, simple good faith, and sound sense is peculiar—and I begin to think it is."
"Do you know him, Miss Frost?"
I drew myself up, and that feeling I have spoken of came over me. It was a temptation, and—well, I and Mrs. Eve are a little alike in our feminine weaknesses; I'm glad I have Bible support in the disposition to fib a little that comes over me.
"Do I know him?" said I. "Yes, intimately."
"Ah!" says she.
"You can judge how intimately," says I, smitten with compunction, and craw-fishing down into a deceiving truth, "when I tell you that I was an honored guest at his birthday party."
"You don't say so!" says she.