"You can't stuff no such stories down me!" she ejaculated. "Them falls! You couldn't live a minnit in 'em! Think I believe such lies?"
"It's the truth, whether you believe it or not," put in Mont, "We were on that tree"--he pointed it out--"and that saved us. See, our clothes are still wet."
The girl was silent, more convinced by their genteel appearance, than by what was said, that she was being told the truth.
"What is your name?" asked Jack, curiously. He had never met such a unique character before.
"Meg," was the laconic reply.
"Meg? Meg what?"
"No, not Meg what; only Meg."
"But what is your other name?"
"Hain't got none."
"Oh, but you must have," put in Mont. He, too, was becoming interested.