For a moment Noble was confused; he followed his young friend's discourse but hazily, and Herbert pronounced the word "ant" precisely as he pronounced the word "aunt." The result was that Noble began to say something rather dreamy concerning the book just mentioned, but, realizing that he was being misunderstood, he changed his murmur into a cough, and inquired:
"When was she over here, Herbert?"
"Who?"
"Your Aunt Julia."
"Yesterday evening," said Herbert. "Now, f'r instance, you take a common lightning-bug——"
"Did she lose it, then?"
"Lose what?"
"Her earring."
"I d' know," said Herbert. "You take the common lightning-bug or, as it's called in some countries, the firefly——"
He continued, quoting and misquoting the entomological authority of the recent "Sunday Supplement"; but his friend on the other side of the fence was inattentive to the lecture. Noble's mind was occupied with a wonder; he had realized, though dimly, that here was he, trying to make starry Julia the subject of a conversation with a person who had the dear privilege of being closely related to her—and preferred to talk about bugs.