For the first time since the beginning of their strange
acquaintanceship Beverly observed downright confusion in this debonair
knight of the wilds.
"It has--has slipped off--" he stammered, with a guilty grin. His merry
insolence was gone, his composure with it. Beverly laughed with keen
enjoyment over the discomfiture of the shame-faced vagabond.
"You can't fool me," she exclaimed, shaking her finger at him in the
most unconventional way. "It was intended to be a disguise. There is
absolutely nothing the matter with your eye."
He was speechless for a moment, recovering himself. Wisdom is conceived
in silence, and he knew this. Vagabond or gentleman, he was a clever
actor.
"The eye is weak, your highness, and I cover it in the daytime to
protect it from the sunlight," he said, coolly.
"That's all very nice, but it looks to be quite as good as the
other. And what is more, sir, you are not putting the patch over the
same eye that wore it when I first saw you. It was the left eye at
sunset. Does the trouble transfer after dark?"
He broke into an honest laugh and hastily moved the black patch across
his nose to the left eye.
"I was turned around in the darkness, that's all," he said, serenely."
It belongs over the left eye, and I am deeply grateful to you for
discovering the error."
"I don't see any especial reason why you should wear it after dark, do
you? There is no sunlight, I'm sure.
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