"Really, Minnie dearest, you are allowing yourself to get too
agitated. Who _is_ this person?"

"He--he's--an--American."

"An American? Why, I just said that I thought he might be one. I
didn't know that you were acquainted with any."

"Oh yes; I did get acquainted with some in--in Canada."

"Oh; and is this man a Canadian?"

"No, Dowdy darling; only an American."

"Well, if he's a friend of yours, I suppose you know something about
him. But how singular it is that you have so completely forgotten his
name. Atramonte? Why, I'm sure it's a _very_ singular name for an
American gentleman--at least it seems so to me--but I don't know much
about them, you know. Tell me, darling, who is he?"

"He--he saved my life."

"What! saved your life? Why, my precious child, what _are_ you talking
about? It was the Italian that saved your life, you know, not this
one."

"Oh, but he did too," said Minnie, despairingly. "I couldn't help it.
He would do it. Papa was washed away. I wish they all wouldn't be so
horrid."