Mrs. Gimpson gazed at him in speechless wrath and then stooping down
conversed in excited whispers with Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Boxer crossed
over to her husband.

"Oh, John," she wailed, "say it isn't true, say it isn't true."

Mr. Boxer hesitated. "What's the good o' me saying anything?" he said,
doggedly.

"It isn't true," persisted his wife. "Say it isn't true."

"What I told you when I first came in this evening was quite true," said
her husband, slowly. "And what I've just told you is as true as what
that lying old fortune-teller told you. You can please yourself what you
believe."

"I believe you, John," said his wife, humbly.

Mr. Boxer's countenance cleared and he drew her on to his knee.

"That's right," he said, cheerfully. "So long as you believe in me I
don't care what other people think. And before I'm much older I'll find
out how that old rascal got to know the names of the ships I was aboard.
Seems to me somebody's been talking."