understand herself," he answered. "But I will try. The key to my
poor dear mother's character is, in one word--Eccentricity."

If he had picked out the most inappropriate word in the whole
dictionary to describe the lady whom I had met on the beach,
"Eccentricity" would have been that word. A child who had seen
what I saw, who had heard what I heard would have discovered that
he was trifling--grossly, recklessly trifling--with the truth

"Bear in mind what I have said," he proceeded; "and if you want
to understand my mother, do what I asked you to do a minute
since--tell me all about it. How came you to speak to her, to
begin with?"

"Your mother told you, Eustace. I was walking just behind her,
when she dropped a letter by accident--"

"No accident," he interposed. "The letter was dropped on
purpose."

"Impossible!" I exclaimed. "Why should your mother drop the
letter on purpose?"

"Use the key to her character, my dear. Eccentricity! My mother's
odd way of making acquaintance with you."

"Making acquaintance with me? I have just told you that I was
walking behind her. She could not have known of the existence of
such a person as myself until I spoke to her first."