"There!" said Mr. Bennett. "You hear? And when Henry Mortimer says a thing, it's so. There's nobody's word I'd take before Henry Mortimer's."
"When Rufus Bennett makes an assertion," said Mr. Mortimer, highly flattered by these kind words, "you can bank on it, Rufus Bennett's word is his bond. Rufus Bennett is a white man!"
The two old friends clasped hands with a good deal of feeling.
"I am not disputing Mr. Bennett's claim to belong to the Caucasian race," said Mrs. Hignett, "I merely maintain that this house is…."
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" interrupted Jane. "You can thresh all that out some other time. The point is, if this fellow is your nephew, I don't see what we can do. We'll have to let him go."
"I came to this house," said Sam, raising his vizor to facilitate speech, "to make a social call…."
"At this hour of the night!" snapped Mrs. Hignett. "You always were an inconsiderate boy, Samuel."
"I came to enquire after poor Eustace's ankle. I've only just heard that the poor chap was ill."
"He's getting along quite well," said Jane, melting. "If I had known you were so fond of Eustace…."
"All right, is he?" said Sam.