"But for my part," added Blanche, "now I am married, I don't care for dancing. Give me my evenings at home!"
"Oh, wait till the dances begin in the cold weather," rejoined Mrs. Lopez, "and all the other women go. Oh! I know you! 'The cat is a Dervish—till the milk comes'!"
Blanche merely shrugged her skinny shoulders and giggled, then leaning half across the table, said:
"Mother, is it true that the Trotters are always asking that young Smith out, and making a fuss with him and having him to dinner? Do you think Mrs. Trotter wants to marry him to Lizzie?"
"Mrs. Trotter told me yesterday," announced Nani Lopez, resolved not to be thrust out of the conversation, "that it is all foolish talk, and there is nothing in it; but I do not believe her. There is two hundred rupees a month, and free quarters in it; we can all see her plan and the meaning of her good dinners. It is a mountain behind a straw!"
"You will notice your grandmother has a proverb for every occasion," said Mr. Chandos, at last turning to Verona and addressing her. If they were the silent members of the party, they were also to all appearances—the sole Europeans present.
Mrs. Lopez, Mrs. Chandos, Blanche, Pussy, Monty, and Nicky were dark. Even Dominga, for all her white skin, had a peculiar foreign look; there was something alien in the cast of her features, and the shrill tone of her voice.
Monty made little conversation, but an excellent meal; indeed, most of the family ate heartily of mulligatawny, stewed beef and stuffed bunjals, concluding with a quantity of mysterious-looking sweetmeats.
"You must come in and stay with us, and we will show you off," said Blanche, accosting Verona. "I will take you to church, and to the club; you will cut out all the officers' wives. My, how they will stare! Oh, goody me!"
"But you cannot have Verona!" protested Dominga, "you have never been able to have Pussy, or me; you know you have no room."