“Are you?” cried Dorothy, laughing. “I am going to keep my mouth shut for twenty-four hours, and that’s real, rity-dity penance, I can tell you! Did you never see Mr. Carington? Why, he’s right up river, just two or three miles.”
“No,—or yes, with my glass a moment, ever so far away. What is he like?”
“Oh, there’s two.”
“Not twins?”
“No. There’s a Mr. Ellett. He’s a man walks about and—well, he walks about.”
Rose laughed. She felt the description to be somewhat indistinct, and said so.
“Kind of man says ‘Oh!’ when you talk to him. Awful neat man,—wears glasses?”
“And the other?”
“He’s a well-set-up man. Stands up strong on his hind legs.”
“His what?”