That seems like a simple proposition; but Sadie takes a long time over it. I could hear her give a squeal of surprise at something, and then she seems to be askin' a lot of fool questions. In the course of five or six minutes, though, she leans over the stair rail lookin' sort of excited.
"Well?" says I. "Does she know him?"
"Know him!" says Sadie. "Why, she says he's her husband!"
"Not Lindy's!" I gasps.
"That's what she says," insists Sadie.
"Great Scott!" says I. "Must be some mistake about this. Wait a minute. Here, you, Pasha! Come here! Lindy says you're her husband. Is that so?"
"Oh, yes," says he, as easy as you please. "Under your laws I suppose I am."
"Well, wouldn't that frost you!" says I.
"But, say, Sadie, why don't she come down and see him, then?"
"Just what I've been asking her," says Sadie. "She says she's too busy, and that if he wants to see her he must come up."