“But you apologized; and promised the statistics for next day.  Why didn’t you keep your promise.”

“The matter was not of sufficient consequence.  The time was gone by to produce an effect with them.”

“But I hear that other friends of the Soldiers’ Pension Bill desire them very much.  I think you ought to let them have them.”

“Miss Hawkins, this silly blunder of my copyist evidently has more interest for you than it has for me.  I will send my private secretary to you and let him discuss the subject with you at length.”

“Did he copy your speech for you?”

“Of course he did.  Why all these questions?  Tell me—­how did you get hold of that page of manuscript?  That is the only thing that stirs a passing interest in my mind.”

“I’m coming to that.”  Then she said, much as if she were talking to herself:  “It does seem like taking a deal of unnecessary pains, for a body to hire another body to construct a great speech for him and then go and get still another body to copy it before it can be read in the House.”

“Miss Hawkins, what do yo mean by such talk as that?”

“Why I am sure I mean no harm—­no harm to anybody in the world.  I am certain that I overheard the Hon. Mr. Buckstone either promise to write your great speech for you or else get some other competent person to do it.”

“This is perfectly absurd, madam, perfectly absurd!” and Mr. Trollop affected a laugh of derision.

“Why, the thing has occurred before now.  I mean that I have heard that Congressmen have sometimes hired literary grubs to build speeches for them.—­Now didn’t I overhear a conversation like that I spoke of?”

“Pshaw!  Why of course you may have overheard some such jesting nonsense.  But would one be in earnest about so farcical a thing?”

“Well if it was only a joke, why did you make a serious matter of it?  Why did you get the speech written for you, and then read it in the House without ever having it copied?”

Mr. Trollop did not laugh this time; he seemed seriously perplexed.  He said: 

“Come, play out your jest, Miss Hawkins.  I can’t understand what you are contriving—­but it seems to entertain you—­so please, go on.”

“I will, I assure you; but I hope to make the matter entertaining to you, too.  Your private secretary never copied your speech.”

“Indeed?  Really you seem to know my affairs better than I do myself.”

“I believe I do.  You can’t name your own amanuensis, Mr. Trollop.”

“That is sad, indeed.  Perhaps Miss Hawkins can?”

“Yes, I can.  I wrote your speech myself, and you read it from my manuscript.  There, now!”

Mr. Trollop did not spring to his feet and smite his brow with his hand while a cold sweat broke out all over him and the color forsook his face —­no, he only said, “Good God!” and looked greatly astonished.