And I thanked all the stars on Monny's tent flag that none of the Set understood Arabic.
After this, how could I hope to explain to Monny that the hieroglyphic proposal was mine, and that she, not Cleopatra, ought to have dug it up? She isn't a girl used to having men run away from her, on camelback or anything else—so naturally she thought me a rude beast, and showed it. Besides, even if I'd dared, I should have had no chance to straighten matters out; for though the flag-episode was after all no fault of Slaney's, there were a few little things which had escaped even his Napoleonic memory; and it was only by combining the feats of an acrobat with those of a juggler that I saved my reputation during the next half hour.
No sight could have been more beautiful in our eyes than that village of white tents in the waste of yellow sand. Our wildest imaginings could have pictured nothing more perfect, more peaceful.
Tea was ready, in the huge dining-tent, where folding chairs were grouped round a white-covered table. The floor of sand was hidden with thick, bright-coloured rugs, and it was finding "T. C. and Son" on the wrong side of one which Miss Hassett-Bean's foot turned up, that filled me with renewed alarms. Hastily I laid the rug straight, placed a chair upon it, and persuaded everybody to have tea before inspecting their bedroom tents. While they drank draughts and dabbed jam on an Egyptian conception of scones, I hurried like a haggard ghost from tent to tent, seeking the forbidden thing. Cook on the backs of the little mirrors hanging from the pole hooks!... Will it wash off?... No! Cut it out with a penknife! Down on your knees and tear off the label from the wrong side of another carpet! (Memo: Must do the one in the dining-tent when the people are asleep for the night.) Cram three Cook towels into my pockets. Hastily pin a handkerchief over the name on a white bit of a tent wall. Must have it cut out, and patched with something, later. Shall have to pay damages when I settle up with Slaney. Lady Macbeth wasn't in it with me! All she needed was a little water. I have to have pins and penknives and pockets all over the place.
I didn't get any tea. But that was a detail. And everybody was so delighted with everything that my spirits rose, despite a snub or two from Monny—for which Biddy tried to make up. People took desert strolls, or sat on dunes, and gazed into the sunset which couldn't have been better if I had turned it on myself. Along the western horizon ran a pale flame of green blending with rose, rose blending with amethyst, and in the distance the Pyramids of Dahshur burned with the red of pigeon-blood rubies.
The wind had died among the desert dunes, and it was not till after dinner that any one realized the arctic fall of temperature. It was too cold to enjoy playing bridge or any of the games I had brought; and the only hope of comfort was in bed. People said good night to each other in the comparatively warm dining-tent, and then gave surprised shrieks or grunts (according to sex) at the piercing cold. Several of the elder ladies fell over ten-tropes, despite the large lanterns illuminating the desert, and had to be escorted to their bedroom tents, and soothed. After this, silence reigned for a few minutes, and I had stealthily begun to work on the biggest rug-label, when arose a clamour of voices and presently appeared the dragoman lent by Slaney.
"Eight ladies wishing hot-water bottles," he explained.
But there were no hot-water bottles. We had thought of everything, it seemed, except hot-water bottles.
"I tell them very sorry but can't have?" Yusef suggested, looking pleased.
"Let me think!" I groaned. "What about the mineral water bottles we emptied at lunch and dinner? Let the cook boil water, and we'll supply the bottles."