“What?” asked Muriel, at once alert.
“It was just outside the Residency,” she said. “I was talking to him, when a donkey, left alone in a native vegetable cart, got its leg over the shaft and started kicking. Well!... He lifted the creature clean off the ground, got its leg back between the shafts, and then took hold of its ear and whispered into it: ‘Oh, you absurd ridiculous ass!’ It sounded quite uncanny.”
Lord Barthampton got up ponderously from his seat and came round the table to Muriel. “The music’s started again,” he said. “It’s our dance, isn’t it? Are you ready?”
Muriel rose, somewhat relieved to take her departure from the supper-table. As she did so her hostess again nudged her heavily.
“Just look at the General!” she whispered.
Kate Bindane turned round, and, catching Muriel’s eye, burst out laughing; while the General, finding his wife’s gaze fixed upon him, put his hand playfully over his face.
“What’s the joke?” Muriel asked.
“Sir Henry is telling risky stories,” replied Kate.
“It’s all right, my dear,” said the General, waving his hand to his wife. “It’s only the one about the little boy and the Sunday school teacher.”
Lady Smith-Evered laughed huskily. “I’m glad it’s no worse,” she declared. “Henry, you must behave yourself.”