He bowed.
"I agree with you, my lady. But you see they are monopolizing the attention to-day, which is a social crime!" and, with a sarcastic smile, he passed on.
Meanwhile, undreaming of this "capful of wind" that might become a tornado, our girls thoroughly enjoyed themselves in a lively, wholly unsentimental way, pleased with the company and their own happy youth; and not suspecting that in this same soft, silky atmosphere which breeds both the exquisite Paradise-bird and the deadly cobra, might be found, not only friendliness, but also that "envy, malice, and uncharitableness" which the honest-hearted are least able to guard against, in their utter lack of comprehension.
CHAPTER IX.
A GAME OF GROMETS.
"Who wants to pitch gromets?" cried Dwight. (He pronounced it as if spelled "gruments," as most sea-going men do spell it, we believe, but let us follow the dictionary!) "Mr. Malcolm's offered a prize for the one that lands it square in the bucket the most times, and Uncle Dwight says he'll give a consolation prize to the poor wretch who doesn't hit it once."
"What's gromets?" asked young Donelson, springing up.
"Oh, don't you know?" said Hope. "Father used to play it with us when we were little—you know what the gromets themselves are, don't you?"
"Haven't an idea?"
"Why, rope rings—Dwight, Dwight! Isn't that one sticking out of your pocket? See how firm and neat it is!"