‘Miss Dupuy. I’ll introduce you in a minute.’
‘But, my dear Harry, where are you going? We don’t even know the people.’
‘Nothing easier, then. We’ll proceed to make their acquaintance. See what a lot of cads climbing up and sitting on the wall, obstructing the view there! First, seat yourself firmly on the top the same as they do; then, proceed to knock off the other intruders, as if you belonged to the party by invitation; finally, slip over quietly inside, and mix with the lot exactly as if you really knew them. There is such a precious crowd of people inside, that nobody’ll ever find out you weren’t invited. I’ve long observed that nobody ever does know who’s who at a garden-party. The father always thinks his son knows you; and the son always fancies indefinitely you’re particular friends of his father and mother.’
As Harry spoke, he had already clambered up to the top of the wall, which was steep and high on the side towards the river, but stood only about two feet above the bank on the inner side; and Edward, seeing nothing else to do but follow his example, had taken with shame a convenient seat beside him. In a minute more, Harry was busily engaged in clearing off the other unauthorised squatters, like an invited guest; and two minutes later, he had transferred his legs to the inner side of the wall, and was quietly identifying himself with the party of spectators on the lawn and garden. Edward, who was blessed with less audacity in social matters than his easy-going friend, could only admire without wholly imitating his ready adaptiveness.
‘Miss Dupuy! How delightful! This is indeed lucky. How very fortunate I should happen to have dropped down upon you so unexpectedly.’
Nora Dupuy smiled a delicious smile of frank and innocent girlish welcome, and held out her hand to Harry half timidly. ‘Why, Mr Noel,’ she said, ‘I hadn’t the very slightest idea you knew our good friends the Boddingtons.’
‘Mr Boddington?’ Harry Noel asked with a marked emphasis on the dubious Mr.
‘No; Colonel Boddington, of the Bengal Staff Corps. Why, how on earth do you happen not to know their name even?—You have a friend with you, I perceive.’
‘Exactly,’ Harry said, turning to Edward, who was speechless with surprise. ‘Allow me to introduce him. My friend, Mr Hawthorn, a shining light of the Utter Bar.—By the way, didn’t you say you came from Trinidad or Mauritius or Ceylon or somewhere? I remember distinctly you left upon me a general impression of tropical fragrance, though I can’t say I recollect precisely the particular habitat.’
‘Trinidad,’ she answered, looking down as she spoke.—‘Why, Mr Noel, what about it?’