Chapter X
Judge Barton’s servant, aided by Kingsnorth’s boy and Martin’s, had put up the tents and had seen thoroughly to the comfort of the visitors, so that there was nothing more to do than to bid the guests good night and to warn them of the island habit of sea bathing every morning. Jones had no bathing suit, but Kingsnorth said he would be able to lend him one; while Judge Barton, showing his fine white teeth in an appreciative smile, remarked that he never travelled without one. “We shall see you in the morning, then,” said Charlotte, and she and Martin betook themselves to their own dwelling. Martin sank lazily into his hammock on the veranda for a final cigar, while Charlotte went to give some orders to her cook about breakfast. She found that gentleman asleep on the kitchen table with his head on a bread board. Rudely awakened and asked for explanations, he stated that he had not gone to his quarters, because the Señora had sent him word that she wished to speak with him; but finding the time pass slowly, he had fallen asleep as she had found him. He asked her plaintively why she had been so impatient with him for so small an offence, and he held out the bread board to show that it had suffered no harm. “Wash it with boiling water! Why not? but mañana, mañana! As she could plainly see there was no boiling water at that time.”
The situation being one in which racial intelligence beats itself helplessly against racial unintelligence, Charlotte contented herself with a note in her housekeeping tablets to remind her to superintend the washing process the next morning, gave her orders, and returned to her room. Martin was standing before her glass in his shirt and trousers, a costume which always seemed to add to his stature.
“Now will you believe me?” he began teasingly. “What did I tell you about the Judge?”
“I haven’t a word to say, but I was surprised. What do you suppose brought him down here?”
“I told you he wanted to see you.”
“He said he wanted to see us, and we will treat him on that basis. That means that you must do your share of the entertaining. I do not want him on my hands all the time. He may just as well go with you each day as stay around the house. Promise me, dear, that you will take him on your shoulders.”
There was an unmistakable earnestness about Charlotte’s manner. She was pulling hairpins out of her hair as she spoke, and she laid those feminine accessories somewhat vigorously in a mother of pearl box, which Martin, to honor his calling, had insisted on having made for her. Her husband sank suddenly into a rocking chair and pulled her down on his knee.
“You are the funniest woman I ever knew,” he said reflectively, “the first one I ever knew who wouldn’t play on a man’s jealousy. The truth is I was just half inclined to be jealous, but you’ve disarmed me.”