Miss Emily was obliged to repeat her question, whereat he started as one awakened out of a dream, and said,—
"Why, yes, he didn't know but she did; there were a good many women with black eyes and black hair,—Mrs. Kittridge, for instance."
"Why, I don't think that she looked like Mrs. Kittridge in the least," said Miss Emily, warmly.
"Oh, well! I didn't say she did," said her brother, looking drowsily at his watch; "why, Emily, it's getting rather late."
"What made you look so when I showed you that bracelet?" said Miss Emily, determined now to push the war to the heart of the enemy's country.
"Look how?" said her brother, leisurely moistening a bit of toast in his cider.
"Why, I never saw anybody look more wild and astonished than you did for a minute or two."
"I did, did I?" said her brother, in the same indifferent tone. "My dear child, what an active imagination you have. Did you ever look through a prism, Emily?"
"Why, no, Theophilus; what do you mean?"
"Well, if you should, you would see everybody and everything with a nice little bordering of rainbow around them; now the rainbow isn't on the things, but in the prism."