"Well?" said Mr. Evans, misunderstanding.
"Not a bit like," said his daughter, turning thank-fully. "And if you don't like Bert, you needn't insult him."
She sat down with her back towards Mr. Carter and looked out at the window.
"Well, I could ha' sworn it was Bert Simmons," said the discomfited Mr. Evans.
"Me, too," said his son. "I'd ha' sworn to him anywhere. It's the most extraordinary likeness I've ever seen."
He caught his father's eye, and with a jerk of his thumb telegraphed for instructions as to the disposal of Mr. Carter.
"He can go," said Mr. Evans, with an attempt at dignity; "he can go this time, and I hope that this'll be a lesson to him not to go about looking like other people. If he does, next time, p'r'aps, he won't escape so easy."
"You're quite right," said Mr. Carter, blandly. "I'll get a new face first thing to-morrow morning. I ought to have done it before."
He crossed to the door and, nodding to the fermenting Mr. Evans, bowed to the profile of Miss Evans and walked slowly out. Envy of Mr. Simmons was mingled with amazement at his deplorable lack of taste and common sense. He would willingly have changed places with him. There was evidently a strong likeness, and——
Busy with his thoughts he came to a standstill in the centre of the footpath, and then, with a sudden air of determination, walked slowly back to the house.