"John Fairbrother's baby-girl had a strawberry mark," said Aunt Phœbe; "that's how we knew the difference, you were so much alike."
Mrs. Early and her cousin looked at each other. George put down the glass he was raising to his lips and looked at them both. Aunt Phœbe rose from her seat suddenly and said—
"What is it? You don't mean to say——"
Mrs. Early drew up the sleeve of her gown and exposed the bare, pretty arm, with its significant birth-mark.
"John's girl!" gasped her aunt.
There was a deathly silence. The clock on the mantelshelf ticked away in regular monotonous beats, every sound in the street could be heard distinctly, and of the four people at the table three were looking in wonderment at the birthmark on Mrs. Early's arm.
George, on whom the significance of the whole thing had dawned with great rapidity, sat with his mouth open until he had thoroughly grasped the situation. Then he said in a feeble whisper—
"Would somebody mind passing the brandy?"
