“Pooh, sir—pooh, sir! My wife is a very sensible little woman, isn’t she, Arthur?” he cried; and the chaplain smiled and bowed before lapsing into a dreamy state, and sitting back in his chair, gazing at the curtains hanging softly across the open door.
“Oh, we’re ready enough to believe, doctor,” said the Resident; “don’t be offended.”
“Pooh! I’m not offended,” exclaimed the doctor. “All discoveries get laughed at till the people are forced to believe. Here, young man, you’ve had enough fruit,” he cried sharply, as one of the party stretched forth his hand to help himself to the luscious tropic fruits with which the table was spread.
“What a tyrant you are, doctor,” said the young officer.
“Here, boy,” cried the doctor, to one of the silent Chinese servants gliding about the table, “more ice.—You’re as unbelieving as John Chinaman here.”
“We’ll believe fast enough, doctor,” said the last speaker; “but it is only fair that we should ask for facts.”
“Facts, Captain Hilton,” said the doctor, turning sharply upon the sun-tanned young officer, who, like the rest of the party, was attired in white, for the heat of the large, lightly-furnished room was very great, “facts, sir? What do you want? Haven’t you your Bible, and does it not tell you that Solomon’s ships went to Ophir, and brought back gold, and apes, and peacocks?”
“Yes,” said Captain Hilton, “certainly;” and the Reverend Arthur bowed his head.
“Oh, you’ll grant that,” said the little doctor, with a smile of triumph and a glance round the table.
“Of course,” said the young officer, taking a cigarette.