"It is, indeed," said Madame Butler.
"It can't be, really," said Tinker. "But I suppose people are mean."
"Well, it would satisfy me," said the pretty young lady. "But unfortunately I am an American, and you want an Englishwoman."
"I only don't want a foreigner," said Tinker. "I should be awfully pleased if you would take the post."
"The pleasure will be mine," said the pretty young lady. "And about references? I'm afraid I cannot get them in less than ten days."
"Pardon," said Tinker. "Your face, if you will excuse my saying so, is reference enough."
The pretty young lady flushed with pleasure, and said, "That is very nice of you, but your father might think them necessary."
"This is my show—I mean, this matter is entirely in my hands; I look after Elsie altogether. And I think we might consider it settled. My name is Hildebrand Anne Beauleigh."
"Oh, you are the boy who borrowed the flying-machine!"
Tinker was charmed that she should take the right view of the matter; he found that so many people, including the bulk of the English, American, and Continental Press, were disposed, in an unintelligent way, to regard him as having stolen it.