“Have you been to Brussels?” asked Harriet.
“Yes! when I was a nasty little boy in jacket and trousers. I was placed at Mr. Jackson’s English school there, in order that I might learn French, but I’m afraid that was the last thing I acquired. The Jackson boys were known all over the town for the greatest nuisances in it!”
“What did you do?”
“What did we not do? We tore up and down the rue Montagne de la Cour at all hours of the day, shouting and screaming and getting into scrapes. We ran up bills at the shops which we had no money to pay—we appeared at every place of amusement—and we made love to all the school-girls, till we had become a terror to the school-mistresses.”
“What naughty boys!” remarked Miss Brandt, with a side glance at Miss Leyton. She did not like to say all she thought before this very stiff and proper young English lady. “But Captain Pullen,” she continued, “where are the confetti? Have you forgotten them? Shall I go and buy some more?”
“No! no! my pockets are stuffed with them,” he said, producing two bags, of which he handed Harriet one. Her thanks were conveyed by throwing a large handful of tiny pieces of blue and white and pink paper (which do duty for the more dangerous chalk sugar-plums) at him and which covered his tweed suit and sprinkled his fair hair and moustaches. He returned the compliment by flying after her retreating figure, and liberally showering confetti upon her.
“O! Ralph! I do hope you are not going to engage in this horse-play,” exclaimed Elinor Leyton, “because if so I would rather return to the Hotel. Surely, we may leave such vulgarities to the common people, and—Miss Harriet Brandt!”
“What nonsense!” he replied. “It’s evident you’ve never been in Rome during the Carnival! Why, everyone does it! It’s the national custom. If you imagine I’m going to stand by, like a British tourist and stare at everything, without joining in the fun, you’re very much mistaken!”
“But is it fun?” questioned Miss Leyton.
“To me it is! Here goes!” he cried, as he threw a handful of paper into the face of a passing stranger, who gave him as good as she had got, in return.