“And you came to entertain.” Her glance travelled unconsciously to his clothing.
“I’m glad if I add to the gaiety of nations,” he offered whimsically, “but my other clothing got soaked in the downpour coming here and these city decorations were the only things I had by that were dry. Catering to a whim over the success of certain ventures, I put them on as a sort of celebration. Then I saw your light over here and heard you playing, and I thought I’d step over and see if everything was all right.”
“All dressed up and you simply had to have some place to go,” flashed Josephine Stone, but in a better nature that he made contagious.
“Likely that was it. Even in the bush people are vain once in awhile.”
“But since you came to entertain and not to explain, Mr. Smith, wouldn’t it have been really thoughtful to have brought along your Indian friend, Ogima Bush?”
“That might have proved quite difficult. Did you find Ogima entertaining?”
“In a Satanic way, yes. He has at least one virtue.”
“Yes?”
“Consistency. He has no fickle moods; he is always just what he is—a savage.”
That subtle thrust, she saw, went under the skin. “That’s because you don’t know Ogima,” he observed gravely. “He is faithful to his friends and he has the rare quality of being sincere. Yes, and he is consistent. With the exception of those artificial red gashes under his eyes, Ogima is one hundred per cent. what he appears to be.