It was a lucky thought, that about the French
barber. It deceived the poor old soul. I don't think she could ever
have been very handsome. If she was she must have changed fearfully."
In the evening, John Clapp and Luke Harrison came round to the hotel
to see him.
"Have you been to see your aunt?" asked Clapp.
"Yes, I took tea there."
"Have a good time?"
"Oh, I played the dutiful nephew to perfection. The old lady thinks
a sight of me."
"How did you do it?"
"I agreed with all she said, told her how young she looked, and
humbugged her generally."
Clapp laughed.
"The best part of the joke is--will you promise to keep dark?"
"Of course."
"Don't breathe it to a living soul, you two fellows. _She isn't my
aunt of all_!"
"Isn't your aunt?"
"No, her true nephew is in New York--I know him.--but I know enough
of family matters to gull the old lady, and, I hope, raise a few
hundred dollars out of her."
This was a joke which Luke and Clapp could appreciate, and they
laughed heartily at the deception which was being practised on simple
Aunt Deborah, particularly when Ferdinand explained how he got over
the difficulty of having different colored hair from the real owner
of the name he assumed.
"We must have a drink on that," said Luke. "Walk up, gentlemen."
"I'm agreeable," said Ferdinand.
"And I," said Clapp.
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