"I tell you that what you see is all
shell. Now then--"
Four conspirators advanced in a half-careless and sauntering manner to
where Kalora and the consul's wife sat by the sheltering tree, intent
upon their exchange of secrets.
"Pardon me, Mrs. Plumston, but the acrobats are about to begin," said
one of the young men, touching the fez with his forefinger.
"Oh, really?" she exclaimed, looking up. "We must see them."
"You must face the other way," said the young man. "They are at the east
end of the garden. Permit us."
Whereupon the young man who had spoken and a companion who stood at his
side very gently picked up Mrs. Plumston's big basket-chair between them
and carried it around to the other side of the tree. And the two young
men who had been waiting just behind picked up Kalora's chair and
carried _her_ to the other side of the tree, and put her down beside the
consul's wife.
Did they carry her? No, they dandled her. She was as light as a feather
for these two young giants of the military. They made a palpable show of
the ridiculous ease with which they could lift their burden. It may have
been a forward thing to do, but they had done it with courtly
politeness, and the consul's wife, instead of being annoyed, was pleased
and smiling over the very pretty little attention, for she could not
know at the moment that the whole maneuver had grown out of a wager and
was part of a detestable plan to find out the actual weight of the
Governor-General's elder daughter.
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