“Miss Hoyt, sir, as I was telling you——”
“Nonsense! You’re mistaken, man! Look close; take it in your hands! Don’t answer until you’ve looked at it well. Where are your spectacles?”
“I don’t wear any, sir,” was the dignified reply. “My eyes, Mr. Ethan, are just as clear as ever they were, sir. Why, I can see——”
“Yes, yes, I beg your pardon, Billings, but I have most particular reasons for wanting to be certain about this! Now—take a good look at it!—now who is she?”
“Miss Hoyt, sir, and if you was to put me in jail the next minute, sir, I wouldn’t say different! No, sir, not if my life was depending on it, sir!”
“And it’s not Miss Devereux?”
“No, sir, nor never was! Why, Mr. Ethan, Miss Devereux, as you must recall, sir, is quite tall and slim, like—like a young birch, sir,—with very dark hair. And Miss Hoyt, sir, as you can see——”