Silence, above and below; a silence the long persistence of which
came near to constituting shock number three. What sort of hermit
had she intruded upon? Into what manner of remote Brahministic
contemplation had she injected that impertinent "Boo!"? Who, what,
how, why--
"Say it again." The request came from under the rock. Evidently
the spectacled owner had resumed his original situation.
"Say WHAT again?" she inquired.
"Anything," returned the voice, with child-like content.
"Oh, I--I hope you didn't break your glasses."
"No; you didn't."
On consideration, she decided to ignore this prompt countering of
the pronoun.
"I thought you were some one else," she observed.
"Well, so I am, am I not?"
"So you are what?"
"Some one else than you thought."
"Why, yes, I suppose--But I meant some one else besides yourself."
"I only wish I were."
"Why?" she asked, intrigued by the fervid inflection of the wish.
"Because then I'd be somewhere else than in this infernal hell-
hole of a black-and-tan nursery of revolution, fever, and
trouble!"
"I think it one of the loveliest spots I've ever seen," said she
loftily.
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