"Oh, I am your aunt's companion," she answered, "her niece, you know."
"Then you must be a cousin," I said.
"No; sister," she corrected, "I assure you it's sister. Ask anyone—ask your aunt." I was braced into a state of puzzled buoyancy.
"But really, you know," I said. She was smiling, standing up squarely to me, leaning a little back, swaying her machine with the motion of her body.
"It's a little ridiculous, isn't it?" she said.
"Very," I answered, "but even at that, I don't see—And I'm not phenomenally dense."
"Not phenomenally," she answered.
"Considering that I'm not a—not a Dimensionist," I bantered. "But you have really palmed yourself off on my aunt?"
"Really," she answered, "she doesn't know any better. She believes in me immensely. I am such a real Granger, there never was a more typical one. And we shake our heads together over you." My bewilderment was infinite, but it stopped short of being unpleasant.
"Might I call on my aunt?" I asked. "It wouldn't interfere—"
[91]
