"Five."
"How'd you mean, Ted?" said Mrs. Oliver, timidly. "Didn't we say four?"
"Five," said the man again, with a still louder volume of voice.
I could see that the poor woman was trembling, but assuming the sweet air of persons who live in a constant state of fear, she said:
"Oh yes. It was five, now I remember."
I reminded her that her letter had said four, but she insisted that I must be mistaken, and when I told her I had the letter with me and she could see it if she wished, she said:
"Then it must have been a slip of the pen in a manner of speaking, ma'am. We allus talked of five. Didn't we, Ted?"
"Certainly," said her husband, who was still busy with his boots.
I saw what was going on, and I felt hot and angry, but there seemed to be nothing to do except submit.
"Very well, we'll say five then," I said.