“No, dear, but somebody's scalp is generally drying at your wigwam-door. Soaking, rather.”
This was an allusion to the Hawley Boy, who was in the habit of riding all across Simla in the Rains, to call on Mrs. Hauksbee. That lady laughed.
“For my sins, the Aide at Tyrconnel last night told me off to The Mussuck. Hsh! Don't laugh. One of my most devoted admirers. When the duff came—some one really ought to teach them to make pudding at Tyrconnel—The Mussuck was at liberty to attend to me.”
“Sweet soul! I know his appetite,” said Mrs. Mallowe. “Did he, oh did he, begin his wooing?”
“By a special mercy of Providence, no. He explained his importance as a Pillar of the Empire. I didn't laugh.”
“Lucy, I don't believe you.”
“Ask Captain Sangar; he was on the other side. Well, as I was saying, The Mussuck dilated.”
“I think I can see him doing it,” said Mrs. Mallowe, pensively, scratching her fox-terrier's ears.
“I was properly impressed. Most properly. I yawned openly. 'Strict supervision, and play them off one against the other,' said The Mussuck, shoveling down his ice by tureenfuls, I assure you. 'That, Mrs. Hauksbee, is the secret of our Government.'”
Mrs. Mallowe laughed long and merrily. “And what did you say?”