Part 27 (1/2)

There was naught to do, in Captain Pharo's exalted frame of mind, but to follow the commanding flower; but when that had become once more congenially distracted I returned to the ball-room to observe there.

The dancers were at rest, and Angie Fay too, the stewards serving them with refreshments; but Fluke and Gurdon were playing softly together on their violins, Fluke with waved hair on his forehead, Gurdon with still brow. Vesty had taken up her sleeping child and was holding him. The Basins loved sad music, low, mournful lullabys on the wind; they listened.

I listened so deeply, so strangely, it was like the awaking from a dream when I heard Notely and his guests inviting the dancers again to the floor.

”Good-night, major,” Vesty whispered kindly, coming to me. She had her shawl wrapped over herself and her infant, and was departing quietly with her father-in-law, Captain Rafe.

”I--I didn't get one eye-beam from her the whole evenin'--no, by Jove!

Note,” said ”Sid,” watching that gently retreating figure; ”not one!

And she just now leaned over and showered a whole peck of 'em on that poor little----”

”Hus.h.!.+” said Notely.

I witnessed with some sadness how Captain Pharo and Captain Judah were walking the room, arm-in-arm, Captain Judah reading from some of Angie Fay's most affecting strains, and Captain Pharo willingly melted to tears thereat.

”Read that ag'in, Judah,” I heard Captain Pharo snivel, as they were pa.s.sing me.

Then I heard the melodramatic snuffle of that ”Adieu! farewell! adieu!”

Still farther down the room sobs were echoed back to me from Captain Pharo's bursting heart.

So that I was gratified, at the next round, to hear Captain Pharo declare that he felt the necessity of going home at once to have a copy of the verses made and ”a ya-ard built around 'em, Judah.”

Most of the Basins had gone; there were still some of the prettiest girls upon the floor, not with proper Basin escort, but with Notely's broadcloth guests, who were whispering sweet words of adulation to tingling, unaccustomed ears.

”Come!” Gurdon whispered to Fluke; ”we should give up playing at this hour, and take those girls home.”

Fluke shook his head. ”Go home, you,” he said: ”one fiddle is enough!

If we want a merry time, don't bother.”

Gurdon stayed patiently, but with a brow waxing determined. The flattered girls, the broadcloth guests cast unwelcome glances at him.

”Go home, Gurd!” said Fluke, at last. ”You spoil it all with a face like that. Go on, and don't mind us, or you and I shall quarrel.”

”Not till those girls are ready to be taken home,” said Gurdon.

Fluke threw down his fiddle with an oath. ”I said that you and I should quarrel.”

”I would not strike my twin-brother for all the false men and foolish girls in Christendom!” said Gurdon, standing before Fluke's threat, with folded arms, and such a look at him that Fluke came to himself, wincing.

”We may as well go home,” he said sulkily.

The young men of the world watched this scene with amus.e.m.e.nt not untempered with choler, while they proceeded elaborately to a.s.sist the pretty Basins, who were wrapping themselves in their thin shawls.

”I fancy we are not to be trusted to escort these young ladies home?”

said ”Sid,” with an elegant sarcastic inclination toward Gurdon.