"A copy for His Excellency! Hurrah!" cried Captain Simpson. "Who volunteers?"
"I will make it," said I, with jealous authority.
"And I will aid you with quill, sand, and paper," said Lana. "Come with me, Euan."
Lois, who had at first smiled at me, now looked at us both, while the smile stiffened on her flushed face as Lana caught me by the hand and drew me toward the other room where the pine camp-table stood.
While I was writing in my clear and painstaking chirography, which I try not to take a too great pride in because of its fine shading and skillful flourishes, the guests of the afternoon were making their adieux and taking their departure, some afoot, others on horseback.
When I had finished my copy and had returned to the main room, nothing remained of the afternoon party save Boyd and Lana, whispering together by a window, and the black wench, Gusta, clearing away the debris of the afternoon.
Outside in the late sunshine, I could see Mrs. Bleecker and Mrs. Lansing strolling to and fro, arm in arm, but I looked around in vain for Lois.
"She is doubtless gone a-boating with her elegant senior Ensign," said Lana sweetly, from the window. "If you run fast you may kill him yet, Euan."
"I was looking for nobody," said I stiffly, and marched out, ridding them of my company—which I think was what they both desired.
Now, among other and importunate young fops, the senior Ensign and his frippery and his marked attention to Lois, and his mincing but unfeigned devotion to her, had irritated me to the very verge of madness.