"If you please, Mr.—" She paused because she suddenly remembered that she did not know the name of the gentleman who was conducting her on so delightful a journey.
"Bombus," said he, cheerfully,—"B. Bombus, Esq., of Clovertop Manse,
Honeywell."
"But you 're not a minister, are you?" inquired Betty.
"No; why?" returned the gentleman, quickly.
"Because you said 'Manse.' A manse is a minister's house, is n't it?" asked Betty.
"No, not always," Bombus replied. "But I call my place Clovertop Manse because it belongs to me and not to my wife, do you see? I call it Manse because it is a man's. It is perfectly plain. If it was a woman's, I 'd say so."
"Well, I don't think you 're much of a humble-bee—" began Betty, and then caught herself up short and stopped.
Mr. Bombus gave her a severe look from under his three-cornered hat, but did not reply at once, and they advanced on their way for some little time in silence. Then the gentleman said:
"I 've been thinking of what you said about my not being a humble-bee.
Of course I am not a humble-bee, but you seemed to lay considerable
stress on the first part of the word, as if you had a special meaning.
Explain!"
Poor Betty blushed very red with shame and confusion; but the gentleman had a commanding way with him and she dared not disobey.