Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn eyed him calmly through his quizzing glass, and said
coldly, "What, sir?"
Madame interposed with her most amiable smile. "Sir Peter, Mrs.
Poskett's cup is empty."
"Is it?" growled Sir Peter, without moving. But Madame's hand was
stretched out to receive it, and he had to yield.
"Oh hang!--Your cup, Ma'am." He almost snatched it from her.
"How kind and gentle you are," almost sobbed Mrs. Poskett, with an
adoring glance.
The Admiral answered her with a glare. "Kind be--" he was silenced by a
stern "Hush!" from Basil, and had to relieve his feelings by
inarticulate splutterings.
Marjolaine stood in the centre of the circle, with her hands folded in
front of her, and sang very simply and unaffectedly:
"Oh, dear! What can the matter be?
Dear, dear! What can the matter be?
Oh, dear! What can the matter be?
Johnny 's so long at the fair.
He promised he 'd buy me a fairing should please me,
And then for a kiss, oh! he vowed he would tease me,
He promised he 'd buy me a bunch of blue ribbons
To tie up my bonny brown hair."
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn applauded in the grand manner with the tips of his
fingers, as if he had been at the Opera. "Brava! Brava!" he cried,
with the discrimination of a connoisseur.
"Brava be hanged!" roared the Admiral. "Capital!" He turned to Miss
Ruth. "Where's little Miss Barbara?"
To his consternation Miss Ruth hissed a fierce "Hsssh!" at him.
"Well, I 'm--!" he muttered to himself.
Marjolaine sang the second verse. You are to understand that she made a
very pleasant picture as she stood warbling the quaint old ballad with
unaffected simplicity. Jack evidently thought so, for, braving the
danger of discovery, he stood, gaunt and hungry, watching her from
behind the curtains in Doctor Sternroyd's window. Indeed, all the Walk
was affected by her charm. Heads nodded to the tune; feet kept time to
the rhythm; hearts melted--Mrs. Poskett's heart, especially. She gazed
reproachfully at the Admiral. What, indeed, could the matter be? and
why, indeed, was her Johnnie, whose name was Peter, so long at the fair?
Jim and Nanette had come into the circle, fascinated by the song. Jim
was trying to insinuate an arm round Nanette's ample waist, but only got
pinched for his pains.
"He promised he'd buy me a basket of posies,
A garland of lilies, a garland of roses,
A little straw hat to set off the blue ribbons
That tie up my bonny brown hair.
And it's oh, dear! What can the matter be?
Dear, dear! What can the matter be?
Oh, dear! What can the matter be?
Johnny 's so long at the fair!"
Almost unconsciously the whole Walk drifted into the song, so that the
last lines were being sung by everybody. The Admiral, indeed, who never
knew when a song was over, went on long after everybody else had
finished. In his enthusiasm he added weird shouts to the words:--"Oh!
Damme! Ahoy! What can the matter be?"