“I fear you must think this—ah—very queer,” he stammered. “I realize that I must seem—ah—perhaps insane, to you. But I have, as I say, been ill and I have walked several miles, owing to—ah—mistakes in locality, and not having eaten for some time, since breakfast, in fact, I—”
“Not since BREAKFAST? Didn't you have any dinner, for mercy sakes?”
“No, madam. Nor luncheon. Oh, it is quite all right, no one's fault but my own. Then, when I found the—the hotel closed, I—I sat down to rest and—and when I heard you call my name—”
“Wait a minute. What IS your name?”
“My name is Bangs, Galusha Bangs. It seems ridiculous now, as I tell it, but I certainly thought I heard you or some one call me by the name my relatives and friends used to use. Of course—”
“Wait. What was that name?”
Even now, dizzy and faint as he was, Mr. Bangs squirmed upon the sofa.
“It was—well, it was Loosh—or—ah—Looshy” he admitted, guiltily.
His hostess' face broke into smiles. Her “comfortable” shoulders shook.
“Well, if that doesn't beat everything!” she exclaimed. “I was callin' my cat; his name is Lucy—Lucy Larcom; sometimes we call him 'Luce' for short.... Eh? Heavens and earth! Don't do THAT!”