“Very well, I will keep still.”
“And you’ll not tell Ross?”
“No.”
“Then some day I’ll show you his face. Ross will tell you all sorts of stories, and so will the old folks—that is what he called them—but you need not believe one word they say, you must not believe any one but me. They try to make you think you are crazy, don’t they? 230 I never heard of such nonsense. Why, you are no more crazy than I am, and it just makes me mad—mad.”
Bessie’s eyes fairly blazed with excitement, and her hands worked nervously together.
“Bessie,” said Blanche, “you wished me to come up here and tell you all about what I had seen, and now you are doing all the talking, and you will not give me a chance.”
“Oh, yes; where did you go?”
“To New York.”
“New York!” screamed Bessie, “that is just where he told me we would live.”
“Who told you?”