"Miss Berkeley must tell you what she has omitted in the course of her
narrative."
"And I refuse to tell."
"Hang it, Nell, I'll wager Mr. Anonymous kissed you!" cried her uncle.
"Caught!" cried one of the ladies.
"Allow me a word," I interposed. I was already sorry. "There was a
method in my action which must not be misconstrued. I believed, for a
moment, that Miss Berkeley might be a new species of bunko-steerer. If
she objected noisily to my salute I should find my case proved; if she
cried, I was wrong."
"And?"
"She did neither. She rubbed her cheek."
"I'll warrant!" my host bawled. "Oh, this is rich! A bunko-steerer!"
"Miss Berkeley," I whispered, "we are quits."
"Not yet,"--ominously.
It was almost time for me to go!
"I was going to ask your pardon," said the uncle in his hunter-voice;
"but I think you have been paid for your trouble. Is there anything you
would like?"
"Three things, sir."
"And these?" he asked, while every one looked curiously at me. I was
still an unknown quantity.
"My hat, my coat, and the way to the door, for I presume you have no
further use for me."
My reply appealed to the guests as monstrous funny. It was some time ere
the laughter subsided. My host seemed threatened with an attack of
apoplexy.
"My dear sir," said he, "I beg of you to remain, not as a source for our
merriment, but as the chief guest of honor. I believe you have won that
place."