Everybody having been served, conversation started slowly. “The weather has turned so fine of late that we can commence playing tennis,” remarked Frau Colonel von Kronau.
“Certainly,” chimed in her husband, masticating vigorously. “I shall call a meeting of the club next week, and then nothing will stand in the way.”
“Charming!” enthusiastically fluted Frau Stark. “I love it passionately, and you, of course, will all join in? You, my dear Frau Kahle, were one of the most zealous members last season. And how is it with you, Frau König?”
“I’ll have to forego the pleasure,” she replied, “for it does not agree with me.”
“And your husband?”
“I don’t know how to play,” the captain said; “but I like to watch graceful ladies at it.”
Frau Stark bit her lips and shot an angry glance at the captain. “What did he mean by ‘graceful ladies,’ anyway?” she thought. That was meant for her, no doubt. And she remembered unpleasant comment made because she with her fifty years had started riding a patient old mare belonging to her husband’s squadron. One of the sergeants was giving her lessons.
“Some civilians, I believe, will join,” broke in the colonel. “I will have a list circulating.”
Everybody knew this was buncombe, the colonel being extremely unpopular in civilian circles, and they smiled incredulously.
“I will join you,” said Herr von Konradi, “provided the heat is not excessive. Next week, however, I have no leisure. I must sow my peas, or it will be too late.”