Mallowe,
her one bosom friend, for she was in no sense 'a woman's woman.'
And it was a woman's tiffin, the door shut to all the world; and
they both talked chiffons, which is French for Mysteries.
'I've enjoyed an interval of sanity,' Mrs. Hauksbee announced, after
tiffin was over and the two were comfortably settled in the little
writing-room that opened out of Mrs. Mallowe's bedroom.
'My dear girl, what has he done?' said Mrs. Mallowe sweetly. It is
noticeable that ladies of a certain age call each other 'dear girl,' just
as commissioners of twenty-eight years' standing address their
equals in the Civil List as 'my boy.'
'There's no he in the case. Who am I that an imaginary man should
be always credited to me? Am I an Apache?'
'No, dear, but somebody's scalp is generally drying at your
wigwam-door. Soaking rather.'
This was an allusion to the Hawley Boy, who was in the habit of
riding all across Simla in the Rains, to call on Mrs. Hauksbee. That
lady laughed.
'For my sins, the Aide at Tyrconnel last night told me off to The
Mussuck. Hsh! Don't laugh. One of my most devoted admirers.
When the duff came some one really ought to teach them to make
puddings at Tyrconnel The Mussuck was at liberty to attend to me.'
'Sweet soul! I know his appetite,' said Mrs. Mallowe. 'Did he, oh
did he, begin his wooing?'
'By a special mercy of Providence, no.
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