“She didn’t do anything in particular.  She told me her name.”

“Simply told you her name.  Do you mean to say she did not show any surprise?”

“Well, now I come to think, she did show something; maybe it was surprise; I hadn’t thought of that—­I took it for gratification.”

“Oh, undoubtedly you were right; it must have been gratification; it could not be otherwise than gratifying to be assaulted by a stranger with such a question as that.  Then what did you do?”

“I offered my hand and the party gave me a shake.”

“I saw it!  I did not believe my own eyes, at the time.  Did the gentleman say anything about cutting your throat?”

“No, they all seemed glad to see me, as far as I could judge.”

“And do you know, I believe they were.  I think they said to themselves, ’Doubtless this curiosity has got away from his keeper—­let us amuse ourselves with him.’  There is no other way of accounting for their facile docility.  You sat down.  Did they ask you to sit down?”

“No, they did not ask me, but I suppose they did not think of it.”

“You have an unerring instinct.  What else did you do?  What did you talk about?”

“Well, I asked the girl how old she was.”

“UNdoubtedly.  Your delicacy is beyond praise.  Go on, go on—­don’t mind my apparent misery—­I always look so when I am steeped in a profound and reverent joy.  Go on—­she told you her age?”

“Yes, she told me her age, and all about her mother, and her grandmother, and her other relations, and all about herself.”

“Did she volunteer these statistics?”

“No, not exactly that.  I asked the questions and she answered them.”

“This is divine.  Go on—­it is not possible that you forgot to inquire into her politics?”

“No, I thought of that.  She is a democrat, her husband is a republican, and both of them are Baptists.”

“Her husband?  Is that child married?”

“She is not a child.  She is married, and that is her husband who is there with her.”

“Has she any children.”

“Yes—­seven and a half.”

“That is impossible.”

“No, she has them.  She told me herself.”

“Well, but seven and a half?  How do you make out the half?  Where does the half come in?”

“There is a child which she had by another husband —­not this one but another one—­so it is a stepchild, and they do not count in full measure.”

“Another husband?  Has she another husband?”

“Yes, four.  This one is number four.”

“I don’t believe a word of it.  It is impossible, upon its face.  Is that boy there her brother?”

“No, that is her son.  He is her youngest.  He is not as old as he looked; he is only eleven and a half.”

“These things are all manifestly impossible.  This is a wretched business.  It is a plain case:  they simply took your measure, and concluded to fill you up.  They seem to have succeeded.  I am glad I am not in the mess; they may at least be charitable enough to think there ain’t a pair of us.  Are they going to stay here long?”