BUMSTEAD, "simply this: you know my double loss.
You know that, upon the person of the male PENDRAGON was found an apple
looking and tasting like one which my nephew once had. You know, that
when Miss PENDRAGON went from here she wore an alpaca waist which looked
as though it had been exposed more than once to the rain.--See the
point?"
FLORA gives a startled look, and says: "I don't see it."
"Suppose," he goes on--"suppose that I go to a magistrate, and say:
'Judge, I voted for you, and can influence a large foreign vote for you
again. I have lost a nephew who was very fond of apples, and a black
alpaca umbrella of great value. A young Southerner, who has not lived in
this State long enough to vote, has been found in possession of an apple
singularly like the kind generally eaten by my missing relative, and his
sister has come out in a waist made of second-hand alpaca?'--See the
point now?"
"Mr. BUMSTEAD," exclaims FLORA, affrighted by the terrible menace of his
manner, "I don't any more believe that Mr. PENDRAGON is guilty than I,
myself, am; and as for your old umbrella--"
"Stop, woman!" interrupted the bereaved organist, imperiously. "Not even
your lips shall speak disrespectfully of my lost bone-handled friend. By
a chain of unanswerable argument, I have shown you that I hold the fate
of your southern acquaintances in my hands, and shall be particularly
sorry if you force me to hang Mr. PENDRAGON as a rival."
FLORA puts her hands to her temples, to soothe her throbbing head and
display a bracelet.
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