"What is this?" interrupted Hemming, holding aloft a white jacket heavy with gold.
"Mess jacket of our regiment, sir. The President would feel honoured if you would wear it. And these trousers were sent in by one of the native officers, with his compliments," replied the valet.
Hemming curtly intimated his readiness to dress. Smith closed the shutters, turned on the lights, and examined a couple of razors.
Twenty minutes later, Herbert Hemming, in the mess uniform of a colonel in the President of Pernamba's army, was ushered into the presence of the family, and a certain Mr. Valentine Hicks.
CHAPTER II.
THE SPORTING PRESIDENT
The President's name was Harris William Tetson. His wife had been Mary Appleton, born of cultured parents in Philadelphia. She welcomed Hemming in the most friendly manner. The third member of the family was a tall girl, with a soft voice and an English accent. She shook hands with Hemming, and he noticed that the pressure of her hand was firm and steady, like that of a man's. She wore glasses. The light from the shaded candles glowed warm on her white neck and arms. Hemming had not expected to find any one like this in the interior of South America. He used to know girls like her at home, and one in particular flashed into his memory with a pang of bitterness. In his agitation, he almost overlooked the extended hand of Mr. Valentine Hicks.
The dinner was of great length. A few of the dishes were American, but most were of the country. Two dusky servants waited upon the diners. The claret was to Hemming's taste, and, as he listened to Miss Tetson describe an incident of her morning's ride, a feeling of rest and homeliness came to him. A little wind stole in from the roses and fountains, and the man of wars and letters, great dreams and unsung actions, saw, with wondering eyes, that it loosened a red petal from the roses at her shoulder and dropped it upon her white arm. He looked up sharply, and only the light of genial friendship remained in the eyes that met those of Valentine Hicks. But Hicks looked sulky; understanding came to the heart of Hemming. At last the dinner came to an end, and Tetson dropped the subject of freight on sugar, and took up the lighter one of real estate. Coffee was brought; no one listened to Tetson, but he prosed on, his good-natured face turned toward the shadows in the ceiling, a yellow cigar stuck jauntily in his mouth. Hemming was busy with his own thoughts, wondering into what nest of lunatics his free-lancing had brought him. He longed for O'Rourke's help. The girl drew something from her bodice, and laid it before him. It was a cigarette-case.
"You may take one, if you do not bore us by looking shocked," she said.
Hemming drew forth a cigarette, and lit it at the nearest candle. "As to being shocked," he replied, "why, I used to know a girl who—" he stopped suddenly and glanced down at his coffee. "Of course it is quite the thing now," he added, in stilted tones.