There was but little time, however, for indulgence of the emotions. Mrs. Lushington's footman, imposing, broad-breasted, and buttoned to the chin, touched his hat as a signal that he had all his paraphernalia ready for departure. Two ladies'-maids, limp and draggled, trotted helplessly in his footsteps. The steward, who knew everybody, had taken a respectful farewell of his most distinguished passengers, the captain had done shouting from his perch behind the funnel, and the raw youth in highlows, casting one despairing look at Mrs. Lushington, had disappeared in the embrace of a voluminous matron the moment he set foot on shore. There was nothing left but to say good-bye.
Satanella's voice faltered, and her hand shook. How she had wasted the preceding three hours that she might have spent on deck with Daisy! and how mean of Clara to take advantage of her friend's indisposition by making up to him, as she did to every man she came near!
"I hadn't an idea you were going to cross with us," said she, in mournful accents, while he took his leave. "Why didn't you tell me? And when shall I see you again?"
"At Punchestown," replied Daisy cheerfully. "Wish me good luck!"
"Not till then!" said Miss Douglas. And having so said in Mrs. Lushington's hearing, wished she had held her tongue.
CORMAC'S-TOWN
If a man has reason to feel aggrieved with the conduct of his dearest friend, he avoids him persistently and sulks by himself. Should circumstances compel the unwilling pair to be together, they smoke and sulk in company. At all events, each lets the other see pretty plainly that he is disgusted and bored. Women are not so sincere. To use a naval metaphor, they hoist friendly colours when they run their guns out for action, and are never so dangerous or so determined, as while manœuvring under a flag of truce.