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Stockton, Frank Richard, 1834-1902

"The House of Martha"

I fairly shivered
the whole morning, and my only hope was that she would begin to snap at
you as soon as you came in, and you would then know whom you had to deal
with, and that you would have to put a lot of water into your
love-making if you wanted any more help from the sisters. But if I had
known that you would not find out that she was writing for you, I should
certainly have died. I couldn't have stood it. But how in the world
could you have kept on thinking that that woman was I? She is shorter
and fatter, and not a bit like me, except in her clothes; and if you
thought I was writing for you, why did you dictate that ridiculous
stuff?"
I stood confounded. Here were answers to devise.
"Of course the dress deceived me," I said presently, "and not once did
she turn her face toward me; besides, I did not imagine for a moment
that any one but you could be sitting at that table."
"But I cannot understand why," she pursued, "if you didn't know it was
Sister Sarah, you made that sudden change in your story."
For a moment I hesitated, and then I saw I might as well speak out
honestly. When a man sees before him a pair of blue eyes like those
which were then fixed upon me, the chances are that he will speak out
honestly.


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