“Does any lady here know that?” inquired the Pacha, looking round.
“No,” said Mr. Boosey; “we must send and inquire of Miss Tattle.” “How pleasantly the game goes on, dear Mrs. Gnu,” said the Pacha; “but Miss Minerva ought to be here, she always holds such a good hand at every game.”
“I think,” said Mrs. Gnu, “that if she once got a good hold of any hand, she wouldn’t let it go immediately.”
“Good!” shouted Mr. Boosey.
“Hi! hi!” roared Mr. Potiphar.
The Pacha took snuff placidly, and said quietly:
“You’ve fairly trumped my trick, and taken it, Mrs. Gnu.”
“I should say the trick has taken her,” whispered Mr. Firkin at my elbow to Kurz Pacha.
The Sennaar Ambassador opened his eyes wide, and offered Mr. Firkin his snuff-box.
Monday came at length. It was well known that we were all going—the Potiphars and the rest of us. Everybody had spoken of the difficulty of getting state-rooms on the steamer to town, and hoped we had spoken in time.