"I would give a great deal to have been through all that," said Lord
Steepleton, slowly proceeding to sip a glass of claret.
"Just think!" ejaculated John Westonhaugh. "And I was entertaining such
a Sinbad unawares!" and he took another green pepper from the dish his
servant handed him.
"Upon my word, Isaacs," I said, "some one ought to make a novel of that
story; it would sell like wildfire."
"Why don't you do it yourself, Griggs?" he asked. "You are a pressman,
and I am sure you are welcome to the whole thing."
"I will," I answered.
"Oh do, Mr. Griggs," said the young lady, "and make it wind up with a
tiger-hunt. You could lay the scene in Australia or the Barbadoes, or
some of those places, and put us all in--and kill us all off, if you
like, you know. It would be such fun." Poor Miss Westonhaugh!
"It is easy to see what you are thinking about most, Miss Westonhaugh,"
said Lord Steepleton: "the tigers are uppermost in your mind; and
therefore in mine also," he added gallantly.
"Indeed, no--I was thinking about Mr. Isaacs." She blushed scarlet--the
first time I had ever seen her really embarrassed. It was very natural
that she should be thinking of Isaacs and the strange adventures he had
just recounted; and if she had not cared about him she would not have
changed colour.
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