Part 17 (1/2)

”So it was, Mr. M'Gabbery; and I beg your pardon. It is Mr. Cruse whose soul is among the potatoes. But, if I remember right, it was you who were so angry when the milk ran out.” Then Mr. M'Gabbery again receded, and talked to Mrs. Jones about his a.s.sociations.

”How thoroughly the Turks and Arabs beat us in point of costume,”

said Mrs. Hunter to Mr. Cruse.

”It will be very hard, at any rate, for any of them to beat you,”

said the tutor. ”Since I have been out here, I have seen no one adopt their ways with half as much grace as you do.”

Mrs. Hunter looked down well pleased to her ancles, which were covered, and needed to be covered, by no riding-habit. ”I was not thinking so much of myself as of Mr. Hunter. Women, you know, Mr.

Cruse, are nothing in this land.”

”Except when imported from Christendom, Mrs. Hunter.”

”But I was speaking of gentlemen's toilets. Don't you think the Turkish dress very becoming? I declare, I shall never bear to see Charles again in a coat and waistcoat and trousers.”

”Nor he you in an ordinary silk gown, puffed out with crinoline.”

”Well, I suppose we must live in the East altogether then. I am sure I should not object. I know one thing--I shall never endure to put a bonnet on my head again. By-the-by, Mr. Cruse, who is this Sir Lionel Bertram that has just come? Is he a baronet?”

”Oh dear, no; nothing of that sort, I imagine. I don't quite know who he is; but that young man is his son.”

”They say he's very clever, don't they?”

”He has that sort of boy's cleverness, I dare say, which goes towards taking a good degree.” Mr. Cruse himself had not shone very brightly at the University.

”Miss Waddington seems very much smitten with him; don't you think so?”

”Miss Waddington is a beautiful girl; and variable--as beautiful girls sometimes are.”

”Mr. Cruse, don't be satirical.”

”'Praise undeserved is satire in disguise,'” said Mr. Cruse, not quite understanding, himself, why he made the quotation. But it did exceedingly well. Mrs. Hunter smiled sweetly on him, said that he was a dangerous man, and that no one would take him to be a clergyman; upon which Mr. Cruse begged that she would spare his character.

And now they had come to the fountain of Enrogel, and having dismounted from their steeds, stood cl.u.s.tering about the low wall which surrounds the little pool of water.

”This, Sir Lionel,” said Miss Todd, acting cicerone, ”is the fountain of Enrogel, which you know so well by name.”

”Ah!” said Sir Lionel. ”It seems rather dirty at present; doesn't it?”

”That is because the water is so low. When there has been much rain, there is quite a flood here. Those little gardens and fields there are the most fertile spot round Jerusalem, because there is so much irrigation here.”

”That's where the Jerusalem artichokes are grown, I suppose.”

”It is a singular fact, that though there are plenty of artichokes, that special plant is unknown,” said Mr. M'Gabbery. ”Do you remember, Miss Waddington--”

But Miss Waddington had craftily slipped round the corner of the wall, and was now admiring Mrs. Hunter's costume, on the other side of the fountain.

”And that is the village of Siloam,” continued Miss Todd, pointing to a range of cabins, some of which seemed to be cut out of the rock on the hill-side, on her right hand as she looked up towards the valley of Jehoshaphat. ”And that is the pool of Siloam, Sir Lionel; we shall go up there.”

”Ah!” said Sir Lionel again.

”Is it not interesting?” said Miss Todd; and a smiling gleam of satisfaction spread itself across her jovial ruddy face.