“Of course he doesn't, Sol,” said Miss Euphemia. “I could have told you that. He didn't even know ME!”
The voice and mock-heroic attitude of the speaker was enough to relieve the general embarrassment with a laugh. Rand, now pleasantly conscious of only Miss Euphemia's presence, again offered the hospitality of his cabin, with the polite recognition of her friends in the sentence, “and you might as well come along too.”
“But won't we incommode the lady of the house?” said Mrs. Sol politely.
“What lady of the house”? said Rand almost angrily.
“Why, Ruth, you know!”
It was Rand's turn to become hilarious. “Ruth,” he said, “is short for Rutherford, my brother.” His laugh, however, was echoed only by Euphemia.
“Then you have a brother?” said Mrs. Sol benignly.
“Yes,” said Rand: “he will be here soon.” A sudden thought dropped the color from his cheek. “Look here,” he said, turning impulsively upon Sol. “I have a brother, a twin-brother. It couldn't be HIM—”
Sol was conscious of a significant feminine pressure on his right arm. He was equal to the emergency. “I think not,” he said dubiously, “unless your brother's hair is much darker than yours. Yes! now I look at you, yours is brown. He has a mole on his right cheek hasn't he?”
The red came quickly back to Rand's boyish face. He laughed. “No, sir: my brother's hair is, if any thing, a shade lighter than mine, and nary mole. Come along!”