“I am at your ladyship’s service,” answered Arthur, lazily, “but would you like to have the compliment apropos of the monkey? I have thought of something extremely neat now.”
“Not on any account; I hate compliments that are not meant,” and her eyes gave a little flash which put a point to her words. “Agatha, I suppose that you will come?”
“Well, yes, dear, the bay looks pretty smooth.”
“Smooth, yes, you might sail across it in a paper ship,” yawned Arthur.
“For goodness’ sake don’t look so lazy, Mr. Heigham, but ring the bell —not that one, the electric one—and let us order the launch at once. The mail will be at anchor in about an hour.”
Arthur did as he was bid, and within that time they were steaming through the throng of boats already surrounding the steamer.
“My gracious, Mildred,” suddenly exclaimed Agatha, “do you see who that is there leaning over the bulwarks? oh, he’s gone, but so sure as I am a living woman, it was Lord Minster and Lady Florence Thingumebob, his sister, you know, the pretty one.”
Mildred looked vexed, and glanced involuntarily at Arthur who was steering the launch. For a moment she hesitated about going on, and glanced again at Arthur. The look seemed to inspire her, for she said nothing, and presently he brought the boat deftly alongside the gangway ladder.
The captain of the ship had already come to the side to meet her, having recognized her from the bridge; indeed there was scarcely a man in Donald Currie’s service who did not know Mrs. Carr, at any rate, by sight.
“How do you do, Mrs. Carr; are you coming on to South Africa with us?”