One Maid's Mischief Part 121

"Firstly?" said the doctor.

"That I get leave. It's too much trouble and worry to desert."

"Granted," said the doctor. "Eh, Harley. Eh, Hilton?"

"Granted," said the Resident.

"Granted," said Hilton.

"That disposes of firstly," said the doctor. "Now then secondly?"

"That you swear not to mention Ophir more than once; and Solomon's s.h.i.+ps seeking gold, and apes, and peac.o.c.ks more than once in each twenty-four hours," said Chumbley.

"Come, that's fair," said the Resident, laughing.

"Quite fair," cried Hilton, roaring with laughter.

"Oh, hang it, I say! Come, that is too hard a condition," said the doctor, tilting his sun-hat on one side so as to get a good scrub at his head.

"Shan't go without," drawled Chumbley.

"Say twelve hours--once in each twelve hours," protested the doctor. "I couldn't promise more."

"Would you stick out for the twenty-four?" said Chumbley, very seriously. "I hate being bored."

"Oh, I think I'd meet him," said Hilton, laughing. "Poor fellow, he can't help it."

"Well, I'll give in," said Chumbley; "only mind this, you are to take your best cigar-box, doctor--not those confounded manillas, but the havanas--and you are to pay a fine of a cigar every time you break out."

"Agreed," said the doctor, holding out his hand, and the expedition was settled, the doctor going off with the Resident, leaving the two young officers together.

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A FIND--NOT GOLD.

"I say, Hilton, old fellow, I liked that," drawled Chumbley.

"Liked what?"

"Why the way in which you smothered up all your old resentment against that poor woman. You know you were breathing out fire and slaughter against her when we got away."

"Well, I was angry then, and mortified, and troubled."

"And now it's all balm, and oil-olive, and honey, eh, old fellow? The beating, bounding heart at rest."

"Don't be an idiot!"

"Why not? The ways of wisdom are hard, and cold, and th.o.r.n.y. Folly is pleasant sometimes."

"You don't think so."

"Indeed I do. You heard what an idiot I was in throwing up that Barlowesque chance?"

"Was that meant for a pun on burlesque?"

"I didn't mean it," said Chumbley. "Take it so if you like. But I say, old fellow, I am glad that you have smoothed down about the Inche Maida."

"Weak, silly woman!" cried Hilton. "Oh, I don't know. It was her foreign way of looking at her chances. These people are regular gamblers. Look at those two fellows there fighting those gamec.o.c.ks.

I'll be bound to say they are staking their all upon the event!"

"Likely enough. That scoundrel Murad staked his all and lost!"

"Heavily," said the lieutenant. "The Princess staked heavily too, and lost; but thanks to you, she comes off pretty easily except in the disappointment. You bury that affair, of course?"

"Yes, of course! It is impossible to avoid it!"

"Agreed," said Chumbley. "Well, I'm glad you kept it down; it would have made us so very ridiculous. I'm off now to have a nap, and then to get ready my gun and things for the journey to-morrow."

"I don't know that I should care to go with you," said Hilton.

"Won't be bad. I shall sit back in the boat, and rest a good deal I daresay. Old Bolter will talk me to sleep, safe. Ta-ta."

"Good-bye, old fellow;" and the young men separated, Chumbley for his quarters, Hilton to go and seek out Grey.

The next morning at daybreak, after infinite cautions from Mrs Bolter, the doctor prepared to start.

"Is there anyone who ought to be seen--anyone you remember?" said the little lady.

"No one but the Barlow woman. You might drop in there," replied the doctor.

"Oh, no, Henry; really I could not," said Mrs Bolter, wringing her hands.

"Never mind, then. She won't hurt. She said, as soon as she knew I was going, that she should die if I did not bring Arthur back. I say, my dear, it's almost enough to make one say one wishes he may never come."

"Oh, Henry!" cried Mrs Bolter. "I'd sooner suffer a dozen Mrs Barlows than Arthur should not be found!"

"Very well, then, I don't come back without him," said the doctor.

"Henry!"

"If I can help it," he replied; and for the next few moments any one might have taken them for a gus.h.i.+ng young couple of eighteen and twenty-three before they tore themselves apart, and the doctor hurried away.

Love is an evergreen. Only give it fair treatment, and the leaves will never fall.

"Come, doctor," roared Chumbley, as the little man approached the boat.

"Do you call this daybreak?"