“Nothing whatever, the mischief is done—and of all people Mrs. Lawrence and her sister! Their visit was long promised—they have never come before, often as I asked them.”
“Then you wanted them to come?”
“There is nothing in the world I want so much as for Miss Dacre to come here—and stay for good. She is the only girl in the world for me.”
“Oh, my hairy aunt! And I’ve put my foot in it nicely!”
“She came out since your last trip, and was always very cool and reserved, yet the first day I saw her I knew she was my fate. I’d have spoken long ago, only she never gave me the slightest encouragement. By degrees, I got to know her better. I was invited there, and as a great favour she promised to come here, and choose some books. I looked on this as a hopeful step—a good omen. It was arranged that she and her sister were to come to-day—my beastly train was three hours late. Well, she came, and found you, painted, and bragging, and offering cigarettes and whisky! Do you think she will ever speak to me again? She will believe I have insulted her on purpose. You’d better go back to your ship, Bobby; you have done enough mischief to last for some time.”
“I must go to-night, anyhow,” rejoined Bobby, “my leave is up,” and gathering up his hat and wig he scampered out of the room.
Once in his own apartment, Bobby lit another cigarette, and sat down to meditate. His round, merry face looked unusually grave and thoughtful. At last he had made up his mind. He called his bearer, and ordered a gharry. Then he replaced his wig and hat and veil, desiring his servant to pack his effects and leave out his own clothes. Having given these orders, he scrambled into the conveyance, and told the man to drive to Major Lawrence’s—“Jeldi!”
As was only to be expected, Miss Dacre and her sister returned from their unpleasant encounter in a condition of high and talkative indignation.
They were seated in the verandah, still discussing their amazing experience, when Miss Dacre, suddenly pointing with a trembling hand, exclaimed: