"Thought as much," said Bob, who seemed to feel this lack of confidence in him very acutely. "There are things to tell. My proposition--if I may be allowed to make one--is that we begin at the beginning, else we shall get muddled."
"It's the properest way," said Sophy.
"Thank you. Even this slight mark of approval appreciated by yours truly. Do I gather that we are friends, Sophy, no longer Maria?"
"In course we are; but I ain't 'ad no nightmare, I've 'ad a scare." She offered him her hand, and it really put life into him. He spoke more briskly.
"Let us get back to the hotel," he said. "Everything down there in black and white--except Sophy's scare--the reason for which I shall be glad to hear, if permitted."
"If he likes," said Sophy, "he can tell yer everythink when he 'ears it 'isself. It's best it should be led up to." She addressed these last words to me.
"For which purpose," said Bob; "march."
I listened to all this in amazement, but I fell in with their humor to have Sophy's scare properly led up to, and we walked to the inn in comparative silence.
"When did you have your last meal, Sophy?" I asked.
"Two o'clock. Biled beef and cabbage."