“Impossible. Quite impossible, Pandora. The annals of medical science, from Esculapius down, contain no record of such a thing. The leg is not mine.”
“But you might as well take it, dearest, mightn’t you, because my George Washington ought to be finished as quickly as possible?”
“You don’t want to put two right legs on him, too, do you?”
“I don’t know, Henry, I might. People won’t look at his toes; and if they did, they would regard the arrangement as one of the eccentricities of genius, perhaps.”
“Let us look about,” said the Major. “Perhaps my leg is in one of these other cases. Why, here it is! Sure enough! In Case 1236, Exhibit 11. That is mine. You’ll let me have it, Mr. Janitor, of course?”
“Can’t do it, sir; I have to follow the Act of Congress carefully. I daren’t go outside of it.”
“Well, this is too bad!” exclaimed the Major. “You positively won’t give it to me?”
“No, sir; I won’t.”
“Well, then, Pandora, there is nothing to do but to wait. I’ll get Colonel Dabney to put another bill through at once. Let me get the numbers: Exhibit 11, Case 1236.”
Then, taking Pandora upon his arm, the Major hobbled to his carriage and drove straight to the Capitol.