"La, mother," said Mercy, "I don't desire to see any more Thomas Leicesters than my own: 'tis the man, not the name. Isn't it, my lamb?"
Mrs. Vint went back to the kitchen discomfited; but, with quiet pertinacity, she brought Thomas Leicester into the parlor, pack and all.
"There, Mercy," said she, "lay out a penny with thy husband's namesake."
Mercy did not reply, for, at that moment, Thomas Leicester caught sight of Griffith's portrait, and gave a sudden start, and a most extraordinary look besides.
Both the women's eyes happened to be upon him, and they saw at once that he knew the original.
"You know my husband?" said Mercy Vint, after a while.
"Not I," said Leicester, looking askant at the picture.
"Don't tell no lies," said Mrs. Vint. "You do know him well." And she pointed her assertion by looking at the portrait.
"Oh, I know him, whose picture hangs there, of course," said Leicester.
"Well, and that is her husband."