On
the other hand, that it should be directed at my misfortune was
exasperating. I suppose my perplexity showed in my face, for when
she had eased her laughter and looked at me with a sobering
countenance, she immediately went off into more peals.
"You poor child," she gurgled at last. "And when I think of all the
cream of tartar I made you consume!"
It was rather presumptuous of her to poor-child me, and I resolved to
take advantage of the data I already possessed in order to ascertain
just how many years she was my junior. She had told me she was
twelve years old the time the Dixie collided with the river steamer
in San Francisco Bay. Very well, all I had to do was to ascertain
the date of that disaster and I had her. But in the meantime she
laughed at me and my hives.
"I suppose it is--er--humorous, in some sort of way," I said a bit
stiffly, only to find that there was no use in being stiff with Miss
West, for it only set her off into more laughter.
"What you needed," she announced, with fresh gurglings, "was an
exterior treatment.
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