Harriet planted her fat hands upon the head of the
young patient, closed her eyes and began to breathe very hard.
Silence now fell upon the people, who said not a word, but who could not
prevent themselves from rustling as they pressed about this exhibition
of a latter-day apostle. The Prophet and Lady Enid were close to the
armchair, and the Prophet, who had never before been present at any such
ceremony--it was accompanied by the twenty guitars, now tearing out the
serenade, "From the bull-ring I come to thee!"--was so interested that
he completely forgot Mr. and Madame Sagittarius, and lost for the moment
all memory of Sir Tiglath. The silly life engrossed him. He had no eyes
for anyone but Mrs. Harriet, who, as she leaned forward in the chair
with closed eyes, looked like a determined middle-aged man about to
offer up the thin girl on the footstool as a burnt sacrifice.
"You're better now, poor thing," said Mrs. Harriet, after five minutes
has elapsed. "You're feeling much better?"
"Oh, no, I'm not!" said the girl, shaking her head under the hands of
the demonstrator. "The fire's blazing and the drums are beating like
anything."
Mrs.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330