Bennett?" said
Mrs. Hignett with acerbity.
"I've rented the house, Mortimer and I rented it from your son...."
"Yes, yes, yes," said Jane Hubbard. "Never mind about that. So you know
this fellow, do you?"
"I don't know him!"
"You said you did."
"I refuse to know him!" went on Mr. Bennett. "I won't know him! I
decline to have anything to do with him!"
"But you identify him?"
"If he says he's Samuel Marlowe," assented Mr. Bennett grudgingly, "I
suppose he is. I can't imagine anybody saying he was Samuel Marlowe if
he didn't know it could be proved against him."
"_Are_ you my nephew Samuel?" said Mrs. Hignett.
"Yes," said Sam.
"Well, what are you doing in my house?"
"It's _my_ house," said Mr. Bennett, "for the summer, Henry
Mortimer's and mine. Isn't that right, Henry?"
"Dead right," said Mr. Mortimer.
"There!" said Mr. Bennett. "You hear? And when Henry Mortimer says a
thing, it's so. There's nobody's word I'd take before Henry
Mortimer's."
"When Rufus Bennett makes an assertion," said Mr.
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