“You borrow the sun’s rays,” said Mary, with wicked sweetness.
“Yes; ’tis cheapeh than matches in the longue ’un.”
“You have discovered that, I suppose,” remarked John.
“Me? The sun-glass? No. I believe Ahchimides invend that, in fact. An’ yet, out of ten thousan’ who use the sun-glass only a few can account ’ow tis done. ’Ow did you think that that’s my invention, Mistoo Itchlin? Did you know that I am something of a chimist? I can tu’n litmus papeh ’ed by juz dipping it in SO3HO. Yesseh.”
“Yes,” said Richling, “that’s one thing that I have noticed, that you’re very fertile in devices.”
“Yes,” echoed Mary, “I noticed that, the first time you ever came to see us. I only wish Mr. Richling was half as much so.”
She beamed upon her husband. Narcisse laughed with pure pleasure.
“Well, I am compel’ to say you ah co’ect. I am continually makin’ some discove’ies. ‘Necessity’s the motheh of inventions.’ Now thass anotheh thing I ’ave notiz—about that month of Octobeh: it always come befo’ you think it’s comin’. I ’ave notiz that about eve’y month. Now, to-day we ah the twennieth Octobeh! Is it not so?” He lighted his cigarette. “You ah compel’ to co’obo’ate me.”