“I feel,” said the Major, as he unfolded his pillow-case, “as if I was in a cemetery, disinterring one of my near relations.”
“So beautiful! Isn’t it?” said Pandora.
The Major suddenly scrutinized the leg closely.
“Why, how—how’s this? I don’t exactly understand—let’s see, janitor, this is Exhibit 1307? Yes. Case 25? Yes, Case 25; so it is. Why, Thunder and Mars! (excuse my agitation, Pandora,) there must be something wrong about this!”
“Wrong, Henry? How?”
“Guess not, sir,” said the janitor. “This is what the bill calls for.”
“But it can’t be, you know. I lost my left leg, and this one you had in the jar here is a right leg. I couldn’t have had two right legs, Pandora, of course!”
“I do not know, dear. Some persons have peculiarities of formation which—”
“Oh, well, now, be reasonable. I am absolutely certain that my leg was a left leg in every particular. You see, Pandora, this is a matter about which I may fairly be considered an authority.”
“Yes, Henry, but—but maybe being in the alcohol so long may have changed it.”