Before Bob could explain himself further, the lady, with a capacious sigh of relief, said:
"That's a comfort, Ethel. Now I guess we shall find a track out of this horrid country." Then, in the pidgin English of literature, she added, addressing Bob: "You plenty muchee goodee Chinee boy. Me givee you heapee thankee—plenty muchee cashee. You belongee this country?"
"No, madam——"
Again his explanation was forestalled.
"Me wantee go Seoulee. You savvy Seoulee?"
"Yes, madam. I—"
"You takee us rightee there—can do?"
During this interrupted monologue the younger lady had shown signs of increasing embarrassment. With flushed checks she half interposed between her companion and Bob, touched the lady's arm, and said quickly:
"Auntie, don't you see?—you are making a mistake; this gentleman is not a—"
"Is not what?" said the lady, putting up her eye-glass, and adding with some asperity: "Then what is he?"