As she made no reply to his last observation, her visitor, glancing at her as if slightly puzzled by her behavior, went on—
"I did not think you would be so bashful, after all our talks. I am not,"—a fact hardly necessary to mention. "We ought to be pretty good friends by this time. Say, do I look as you expected I would?" and as if to give her a better view, he pushed his hat back on his head, a kindness wholly unappreciated, as Nattie had seen more than sufficient of him already.
"Not—not exactly!" she stammered, in a sort of dazed way.
"I believe you thought I was one of those slim fellows whose bones rattle when they walk, didn't you? I am no such a fellow, you see. But you ain't a bit as I imagined. May I be a plug[1] forever if you are!"
Nattie was too wretched, too unable even yet to realize that her "C" and this odious creature were one and the same, to ask, as he evidently expected natural curiosity would induce her to do, in what way she so differed from the person of his imagination.
"You go beyond all my calculations," he con-
- ↑ "Plug" is the common telegraphic expression for an incompetent operator.
