"
"Well, then, where is he?"
"He's--I don't know--"
"You don't know where he is,--and yet you claim you had a letter from
him!"
"You say I wrote that letter myself--"
"And you did!"
"Well, then, it was because you insisted on my getting a letter from
him,--and--and that's the only way I could think of."
Azalea gave a half-smile, hoping Farnsworth would laugh, too.
But he did not. He said, sternly, "I can't understand you, Azalea. I
don't want to misjudge you, but you must admit, yourself, that you're
making it very hard for me. Why won't you tell me everything? If Uncle
Thorpe disowned you,--cast you off,--or anything like that,--tell me;
I'll take your part,--and I'll defend you."
"Would you, Cousin William?" Azalea's voice was wistful; "would you
defend me?"
The serious tone disturbed Farnsworth more than her anger had done, and
he looked at her keenly.
"Yes," he answered, "but only if you are frank and truthful with me.
Now, once again, Azalea, what is the _real_ name of the man who called
you up yesterday?"
"Brown," said Azalea, and Farnsworth gave a gesture of impatience.
"You're a very poor story-teller!" he exclaimed. "It is not Brown,--or
Green,--or Smith. If you had said some less common name, I might have
believed you. But your inventiveness doesn't go far enough. When people
want to deceive, it's necessary to frame their falsehoods convincingly.
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