"It's me." He edged away. "Don't you hit me!" he exclaimed.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
"What for?"
"Here you are in England, and your mother's looking for you in Canada. I guess your father's got you mixed."
"I shouldn't wonder," struck in a thin, acidulated-looking woman, "if Mr. Bindon's took you for my George, and sent my George to Canada. I never knew such a head for children as that man has got. Is my George here?"
"No," said Rufus. He grinned.
"Then," exclaimed the acidulated-looking woman, "I'm clean done."
The nervous little woman came forward. She laid her hand on Rufus's arm. "My Neddy's here! I'm sure my Neddy's here!"
Although she said that she was sure, her tone was by no means one of certainty. Her voice trembled--the little woman trembled too.
"He's not," said Rufus. He grinned again.