"Tea, captain?" inquired Mrs. Wragge, looking submissively down at
her husband, whose head, when he stood on tiptoe, barely reached her
shoulder.
"Miss Vanstone, the younger," said the captain, presenting Magdalen.
"Our fair relative, whom I have met by fortunate accident. Our guest for
the night. Our guest!" reiterated the captain, shouting once more as if
the tall lady was still fast asleep, in spite of the plain testimony of
her own eyes to the contrary.
A smile expressed itself (in faint outline) on the large vacant space of
Mrs. Wragge's countenance. "Oh?" she said, interrogatively. "Oh, indeed?
Please, miss, will you sit down? I'm sorry--no, I don't mean I'm sorry;
I mean I'm glad--" she stopped, and consulted her husband by a helpless
look.
"Glad, of course!" shouted the captain.
"Glad, of course," echoed the giantess of the amber satin, more meekly
than ever.
"Mrs. Wragge is not deaf," explained the captain. "She's only a little
slow. Constitutionally torpid--if I may use the expression. I am merely
loud with her (and I beg you will honor me by being loud, too) as a
necessary stimulant to her ideas. Shout at her--and her mind comes up
to time.
Pages:
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337