"Mr. Quentin, well, I've given you up long ago. Mr. Green, I cannot say much to you, when grown-up people set you such an example" (a back-handed slap at Mr. C. Green's tender years). "Mr. Lisle, you here? and pray what have you got to say for yourself? What is your excuse?"
"My excuse," coming forward and doffing his hat, "is, that I have no more idea of decorating a room than one of the settlement elephants—in fact, my genius is of a destructive, rather than of a constructive order. But I am always prepared to appreciate other people's handiwork."
"Well, you are cool," staring at him for a second in scornful silence.
"Now, Dr. Malone," pointing at him with her parasol, "let us hear what you have got to say for yourself."
Dr. Malone rested his chin on the top of his tennis-bat, and calmly contemplated his fair questioner in a somewhat dreamy fashion, and then was understood to say,—
"That as long as Miss Caggett was in a ball-room, any other decoration was quite superfluous!"
To which Miss Caggett responded by rapping him on the knuckles with the handle of her sunshade, and saying,—
"Blarney!"
Meanwhile Mrs. Durand had joined the group, and now received a very warm welcome. It was easy to see that she was a popular person at Port Blair. She was upwards of thirty, with a full but very erect figure, smiling dark eyes, good features, and white teeth, the upper row of which she showed very much as she talked. She wore a hat with a dark blue veil, a pretty cambric dress, and carried a red parasol over her arm (a grand landmark, that same parasol, for Mrs. Creery).
"Great events never happen alone!" quoth Dr. Malone, bowing over his bat. "Here, in one day, we have the mail in, the full moon, the ball, and Mrs. Durand! It is quite needless to inquire after Mrs. Durand's health?"