At first Miss Sommerton seemed to resent the audacity of this request. Then a conscious light came into her face, and instinctively her hand pressed the side of her dress where her pocket was supposed to be.
“Now,” said the artist, “don’t deny that you have the tobacco. I told you I was a bit of a mind reader, and besides, I have been informed that young ladies in America are rarely without the weed, and that they only keep the best.”
The situation was too ridiculous for Miss Sommerton to remain very long indignant about it. So she put her hand in her pocket and drew out a plug of tobacco, and with a bow handed it to the artist.
“Thanks,” he replied; “I shall borrow a pipeful and give you back the remainder. Have you ever tried the English birdseye? I assure you it is a very nice smoking tobacco.”
“I presume,” said Miss Sommerton, “the boatmen told you I always gave them some tobacco when I came up to see the falls?”
“Ah, you will doubt my mind-reading gift. Well, honestly, they did tell me, and I thought perhaps you might by good luck have it with you now. Besides, you know, wasn’t there the least bit of humbug about your objection to smoking as we came up the river? If you really object to smoking, of course I shall not smoke now.”
“Oh, I haven’t the least objection to it. I am sorry I have not a good cigar to offer you.”
“Thank you. But this is quite as acceptable. We rarely use plug tobacco in England, but I find some of it in this country is very good indeed.”
“I must confess,” said Miss Sommerton, “that I have very little interest in the subject of tobacco. But I cannot see why we should not have good tobacco in this country. We grow it here.”
“That’s so, when you come to think of it,” answered the artist.