eople about everywhere, and the
best we could manage was in the mummy-room. We looked at all the
mummies, and I told her all I knew about them, and I kept thinking to
myself: Now, how can I work round to it? I've tried so often, you know,
and she's always escaped me, somehow, and I couldn't help thinking it
was because I hadn't gone about it in the proper way. Well, we'd been
staring at a mummy for about a quarter of an hour, and neither of us
said anything, when all at once a rare idea came into my head. 'Sally,'
I said, glancing round to see that there was no one by, 'that mummy was
very likely a pretty girl like you, once.' 'Do you think so?' she said,
with that look of hers which makes me feel like a galvanic battery. 'I
do,' I said, 'and what's more, there may once have been another mummy,
a man-mummy, standing by her just as I am standing by you, and wanting
very much to ask her something, and shaking in his shoes for fear he
shouldn't get the right answer.' 'Did the mummies wear shoes when they
were alive?' she asked, all at once. 'Wear shoes!' I cried out. 'I
can't tell you, Sally; but one thing I feel very sure of, and that is
that they had hearts. Now, suppose,' I said, 'we're those two
mummies--' 'I'm sure it's bad luck!' interrupted Sally. 'Oh no, it
isn't,' said I, seeing something in her face which made me think it was
the opposite. 'Let me go on. Now, suppose the one mummy said to the
other, "Sally--"' '_Were_ the girl-mummies called Sally?' she
interrupted again. 'Sure I can't say,' said I, 'but we'll suppose so.
Well, suppose he said, "Sally if I can hit on some means of making a
comfortable home here by the Nile,--that's to say, the Thames, you
know,--will you come and keep it in order for me, and live with me for
all the rest of our lives?' Now what do you think the girl-mummy would
have answered:'"

Waymark laughed, but O'Gree had become solemn.

"She didn't answer at once, and there was something very queer in her
face. All at once she said, 'What has Mr. Waymark told you about me?'
'Why, just nothing at all,' I said, rather puzzled. 'And do you know,'
she asked then, without looking at me, 'what sort of a girl I am?'
Well, all at once there came something into my head that I'd never
thought of before, and I was staggered for a moment; I couldn't say
anything. But I got over it. 'I don't want to know anything,' I said.
'All I know is, that I like you better than I ever shall any one else,
and I wa