“And drink it on the table!” someone shouted, and every one got up once more and put a dirty boot on Mrs Burney’s nice table-cloth and made a tremendous noise, while I stared at them. When I realised what they were saying I went hot with vexation and embarrassment, for I felt sure they were making fun of me.
“Respond! Respond!” they cried all round me.
“I never heard of anything so ridiculous in my life,” I said crossly. “And utterly uncalled for.” I threw Colonel Blow a glance of the utmost indignation. “I think you want to make every one hate me!” I said.
He merely shouted with laughter.
“Oh, I know I’m a wonder, but I couldn’t do that,” he said, and to my amazement the women all rushed at me and hugged me and made me feel as hot and stuffy and cross as possible.
When I say all, I don’t of course mean that the Salisbury women did anything of the kind. Miracles do not happen in modern times. But I was not surprised that they got up in a group and strolled off sniffing disdainfully. The whole thing was ridiculous and absurd.
“You’ve quite spoiled my day,” I said to Colonel Blow afterwards. He insisted upon taking me to see some wonderful drawings on a rode which he said only he and one other man knew about; and when we got there they were the same old drawings Mrs Marriott and I had been looking at in the morning. So we sat on top of the rock and I continued my upbraidings.
“Of course it was very kind of you and all that, and I dare say you meant well—but I never felt more uncomfortable in my life, and I cannot say I feel the least bit grateful to you. I made sure you were talking about some woman you had fallen in love with and expected every one else to do the same,” I continued in my most unpleasant voice.
“Well, so I was,” he had the effrontery to say. “But of course I know there is no hope for me.”
I stared at him coldly. I really did not feel disposed for any more jesting. But his face had not the ghost of a smile on it, and he continued quite gravely: