“I see we are to have the Editor of the X.Y.Z. on board.”
“Yes,” said Day.
“He’s an owl,” said I sententiously.
“I wonder,” said Day, “how he got the editorship of his review?”
“Oh,” said I, “I suppose he married some one.”
On this the conversation dropped, and we parted. Later on we met again and Day said:
“Do you know who that lady was—the one standing at your elbow when we were talking just now?”
“No,” said I.
“That,” he replied, “was Mrs. A. B.”
And it was so.