“Thank you, sir,” said Thomas, and called down the speaking-tube. “Drinking cokernut, large gin, ice and dry biscuit to Lord Charles. Got that? Right. Tea and boiled eggs, Mr Bassett. Got that? Right. Those two lots in the bedrooms at once. Coffee, two pork chops and stewed pineapple to Mr Mandelbaum downstairs in twenty minutes. Yes, that’s all. Now, sir, I’m ready.”
“I have two guests from the schooner—one of them is a lady—and I want breakfast for them in the garden. And, look here, Thomas, they’re here for only an hour or so, and we’ve got business, and if possible I don’t want to be interrupted by any of the gentlemen. Put the table in some secluded corner. See?”
“Certainly, sir. Sir John and Dr Soames Pryce are out already, sir, but they will probably have gone to the beach, and I think there’s no other gentleman down yet.”
As they settled the details of the breakfast more windows were opened and a strong, fresh breeze blew in from the sea. Under the eye of Thomas the native servants moved more quickly and order began to be restored.
“You manage those beggars pretty well,” said Mast.
But Thomas was pessimistic. Four gallons of methylated spirits had been stolen from the club stores, and for the life of him he couldn’t find out which of his boys had got it. It was his belief that the only man who could really manage them was King Smith.
The Rev. Cyril Mast had been careful to place chairs for his guests where the orange-trees screened them from any view of the house. Mr Lechworthy was perfectly contented to stay where he had been put. He was quite happy, and he promised himself that presently he would acquire valuable material for a sketch of a Protestant mission on one of the smallest, the loneliest, and the most beautiful of the South Sea islands. Meanwhile he had risen very early, and he had some ability for the five-minute snooze. His head went back and the brim of his black felt hat shaded his eyes. But Hilda Auriol had sighted a big parrot, swaying on its perch in a patch of sunshine, and it was her wont to make friends with all tame birds and beasts.
She went up and spoke to the parrot. The bird gave a husky cough, imitated the act of expectoration, and began to say the three worst things it knew. Then it sat blinking and thinking in silence. As Hilda passed the verandah, the French windows of the card-room were flung wide open, and she caught one glimpse of it—precisely as it had been left the night before. She returned and roused Mr Lechworthy.
“There are at least sixteen missionaries here, uncle, which seems a good many for such a small island. The sixteen play cards, drink, and teach a parrot bad language. I don’t think I like them.”