"I'm sure I can't tell," said Mr. Denny.
"I measured it, and it is exactly seventy-six feet, four inches high."
If he had dropped a can of nitro-glycerin under the table, the effect couldn't have been more startling. Mr. Lawrence Belford dropped his fruit knife with a ruinous rattle, his face assumed the color of frosted cake (the frosting, to be exact), and he seemed thoroughly frightened. Mr. Denny looked surprised, and said,
"What?"
Alma said nothing, but fished for the sugar in her strawberries and cream.
"What did you say, Mr. Franklin?"
"I said that I measured the new chimney, just for the fun of the thing, and found that it is exactly seventy-six feet, four inches high."
"It's an abominable lie."
"Lawrence!" said Alma, with an appealing glance.
"Are you sure, Mr. Franklin? Have you not made some mistake?"