Laura handed him her commonplace-book and called his attention to the fact that the handwriting there and the handwriting of this speech were the same.  He was shortly convinced.  He laid the book aside and said, composedly: 

“Well, the wonderful tragedy is done, and it transpires that I am indebted to you for my late eloquence.  What of it?  What was all this for and what does it amount to after all?  What do you propose to do about it?”

“Oh nothing.  It is only a bit of pleasantry.  When I overheard that conversation I took an early opportunity to ask Mr. Buckstone if he knew of anybody who might want a speech written—­I had a friend, and so forth and so on.  I was the friend, myself; I thought I might do you a good turn then and depend on you to do me one by and by.  I never let Mr. Buckstone have the speech till the last moment, and when you hurried off to the House with it, you did not know there was a missing page, of course, but I did.

“And now perhaps you think that if I refuse to support your bill, you will make a grand exposure?”

“Well I had not thought of that.  I only kept back the page for the mere fun of the thing; but since you mention it, I don’t know but I might do something if I were angry.”

“My dear Miss Hawkins, if you were to give out that you composed my speech, you know very well that people would say it was only your raillery, your fondness for putting a victim in the pillory and amusing the public at his expense.  It is too flimsy, Miss Hawkins, for a person of your fine inventive talent—­contrive an abler device than that.  Come!”

“It is easily done, Mr. Trollop.  I will hire a man, and pin this page on his breast, and label it, ’The Missing Fragment of the Hon. Mr. Trollop’s Great Speech—­which speech was written and composed by Miss Laura Hawkins under a secret understanding for one hundred dollars—­and the money has not been paid.’  And I will pin round about it notes in my handwriting, which I will procure from prominent friends of mine for the occasion; also your printed speech in the Globe, showing the connection between its bracketed hiatus and my Fragment; and I give you my word of honor that I will stand that human bulletin board in the rotunda of the capitol and make him stay there a week!  You see you are premature, Mr. Trollop, the wonderful tragedy is not done yet, by any means.  Come, now, doesn’t it improve?”

Mr Trollop opened his eyes rather widely at this novel aspect of the case.  He got up and walked the floor and gave himself a moment for reflection.  Then he stopped and studied Laura’s face a while, and ended by saying: 

“Well, I am obliged to believe you would be reckless enough to do that.”

“Then don’t put me to the test, Mr. Trollop.  But let’s drop the matter.  I have had my joke and you’ve borne the infliction becomingly enough.  It spoils a jest to harp on it after one has had one’s laugh.  I would much rather talk about my bill.”