“Not more than a couple of hours,” laughed Stuart.
“Gracious alive! what do you suppose will become of you?” indignantly demanded his wife.
“I am sure I have no idea. Why do you ask?”
“Just think what an awful falsehood you told!”
“Pray, what was it, my dear?”
“Why, that we had been standing here over two hours, when you know we just arrived. Only think of it!”
“I told no story, my dear. I said we had not been here over a couple of hours, and I don’t think you will pretend to contradict it.”
“Well, it’s all the same,” snapped Mrs. Stuart, bouncing into the house. Irene, by this time, had succeeded in lighting the pine knot, which threw out an oily, smoky light, making every part of the room, however, perfectly visible. Kingman arose, and after bidding all a good night, stepped forth and made his way toward his home. The sky was clear, and the bright moon rendered objects very distinct at a great distance. He had nearly reached his destination when he encountered Moffat.
“Ah! how’s this, Moffat? What keeps you out so late?”
“Something different from what has kept you.”