"Hush, Betty," he whispered; "I'll
explain." Sweeping off his bonnet and veil, he threw them--nurse's best
Sunday hat!--on a chair, and faced Mr. Erveng. You can't think how
comical he looked, with his handsome boy's face and rumpled hair above
that fat old woman's figure. And in a moment or two, I think, I must
have looked almost as comical too; for before Phil could begin, Mr.
Erveng said, "I insist upon that person removing her bonnet and veil
as well."
So off went mine, and there we stood; a fine pair we must have looked!
That boy Hilliard gave a little giggle,--Phil said afterwards he'd like
to have "punched" him for it, and I felt awfully foolish,--but Mr.
Erveng frowned.
Then Phil began and told who we were, and how something that had been
said by a friend of ours had given him, and me,--though neither knew
about the other,--the idea of coming over and asking him, Mr. Erveng,
to buy the Fetich (of course Phil called the Fetich by its proper
name), and thinking he might like to see some of the manuscript, he
had got hold of two chapters and brought them along to show.
"But why this absurd disguise, if all this is true?" asked Mr.
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