“Bitten all over?”
“The other evening we were dining at the Palace, and I heard the dear King say—but I oughtn’t to talk and excite you——”
“By the way, Lady Something,” Lord Tiredstock’s third son asked: “what is the etiquette for the Queen of Dateland’s eunuch?”
“It’s all according; but you had better ask Sir Somebody, Air Limpness,” Lady Something replied, glancing with interest at the portable altar.
“I’ve done so, and he declared he’d be jiggered!”
“I recollect in Pera when we occupied the Porte, they seemed (those of the old Grand Vizier—oh what a good-looking man he was—! such eyes—! and such a way with him—! Despot!!) only too thankful to crouch in corners.”
“Attention with that castor-oil...!”
“It’s not castor-oil; it’s a little decoction of my own,—aloes, gregory, a dash of liquorice. And the rest is buckthorn!”
“Euh!”
“It’s not so bad, though it mayn’t be very nice.... Toss it off like a brave man, Mr Monteith (nip his nostrils, Mr Limpness), and while he takes it, I’ll offer a silent prayer for him at that duck of an altar,” and as good as her word, the Ambassadress made towards it.