"Bonny
blue eyes, as the poet says."
"What of it?" I asked.
"This," replied my visitor. "If you have them now, you can very easily see
what I am doing here. _I am sitting down and talking to you._"
"Oh, are you?" I said, with fine scorn. "I had not observed that. The fact
is, my eyes were so weakened by the brilliance of that necktie of yours
that I doubt I could see anything--not even one of my own jokes. It's a
scorcher, that tie of yours. In fact, I never saw anything so red in my
life."
"I do not see why you complain of my tie," said the visitor. "Your own is
just as bad."
"Blue is never so withering as red," I retorted, at the same time
caressing the scarf I wore.
"Perhaps not--but--ah--if you will look in the glass, Hiram, you will
observe that your point is not well taken," said my vis-a-vis, calmly.
I acted upon the suggestion, and looked upon my reflection in the glass,
lighting a match to facilitate the operation. I was horrified to observe
that my beautiful blue tie, of which I was so proud, had in some manner
changed, and was now of the same aggressive hue as was that of my visitor,
red even as a brick is red.
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