Miss Winchester jumped at this idea, like a reporter for a woman’s home journal. She selected the varied ejaculations of the natives; “grunts,” as she called them.
“Every race seems to grunt differently, and every idol swears differently. I suppose prayers are diverse also, but the grunts will be enough for me. We shall have hot-weather sighs, and cold-weather shivers; torrid zone lassitude and temperate zone platitude; Hindoo shuffles and Mongolian shrugs, each accompanied by its appropriate ejaculation or grunt. It is astonishing how much grunting is heard. Asia is like a Florida razor-back settlement on a large scale. I shall be kept quite busy; and no doubt myself become quite accomplished.” Miss Winchester was evidently in high feather, finding her surroundings inspiring from a literary point of view.
“The Himalayas will suit your purpose admirably,” remarked the Doctor.
“How so?”
“You may write a dialect story on your way—all grunts, and nothing else.”
Paul thought the subject of the rapid changes from one kind of vegetation to another would suit him as a specialty. “There ought to be enough variety in ferns, palms, and natural shrubbery, to say nothing of tea, quinine and poppies (opium) to excite or soothe as we require doses.” Paul was evidently hoping to obtain some plants for his Florida Garden, his winter home, between Pelican Lodge and the salt waves. There the Pelicans were omnivorous birds, not being restricted to ordinary pelican diet.
Adele said she expected to be engaged chiefly in “looking up.”
“Not guide-books, I hope?” quizzed Miss Winchester.
“Only when I lie down, to take a siesta; they will serve as a sedative.”
“Whatever you do,” said Mrs. Cultus, ever practical and worldly-wise, “be sure to jot down notes. You remember my report on Tangiers to our Politely Civil League? Memoranda came in splendidly then; I’ve just received a note of thanks for my ‘communications.’”