Mr. Davis turned and looked blankly at his friend. Mr. Wotton met his gaze with dilated eyes.
“You say you recognize me as your wife?” said the old lady.
“Certainly,” said Mr. Davis, hotly.
“It's very curious,” said the other—“very. But are you sure? Look again.”
Mr. Davis thrust his face close to hers and stared hard. She bore his scrutiny without flinching.
“I'm positive certain,” said Mr. Davis, taking a breath.
“That's very curious,” said the old lady; “but, then, I suppose we are a bit alike. You see, Mrs. Davis being away, I'm looking after her house for a bit. My name happens to be Smith.”
Mr. Davis uttered a sharp exclamation, and, falling back a step, stared at her open-mouthed.
“We all make mistakes,” urged Mr. Wotton, after a long silence, “and Ben's sight ain't wot it used to be. He strained it looking out for a sail when we was on that desert——”
“When—when'll she be back?” inquired Mr. Davis, finding his voice at last.