“Who?”
“Who? You know well enough.”
“Do you mean my grandmother?”
“Your grandmother!” ejaculated the voice with apparent sarcasm. “Ah! of course, what do you think?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said the poor Prophet, whose reason was beginning to totter upon its throne.
“Well,” proceeded the voice, “she thought you’d give it up.”
“What—my grandmother did?”
“Ah, your grandmother. Get away with you! Ha! ha! ha!”
And the mysterious visitant broke forth into a peal of rather mundane laughter. After indulging in this unseemly mirth for about a minute and a half, the personage resumed,—
“The Crab did for her.”