He laughed uncomfortably.
She went on sewing, suddenly beginning to sing to herself:
“Pussy cat, Pussy cat, where have you been?
I’ve been up to London to see the fine queen:
Pussy cat, Pussy cat, what did you there——
I frightened a little mouse under a stair.”
“I suppose,” she added, “that may be so. Poor mouse!—but I guess she’s none the worse. You did not see the queen, though?”
“She was not in London,” he replied sarcastically.
“You don’t——” she said, taking two pins from between her teeth. “I suppose you don’t mean by that, she was in Eberwich—your queen?”
“I don’t know where she was,” he answered angrily.
“Oh!” she said, very sweetly, “I thought perhaps you had met her in Eberwich. When did you come back?”
“Last night,” he replied.
“Oh—why didn’t you come and see us before?”