Clytie was in to feed me the inside of a baked potato before you came.

After I'd fought with her to eat the skin of it--such a beautiful brown potato-skin, with delicious little white particles still sticking to the inside where it hadn't all been dug out--and after she had used her strength as no lady should, and got it away from me, it came to me all at once that she was my mother.

Then she assured me that she was not, and that seemed quite reasonable, too.

I told her I loved her enough for a mother, anyway--and the poor thing giggled." "Still, you have your lucid moments." "Ah, still thinking about the face?
You mean I'm lucid when you smile, and daffy when you don't.

But that's a case of it--your face--" "My face a case of _what ?_ You're getting commercial--even shoppy.