"I can see you taking it!" giggled Marise. "You took the firm stand on one foot only, and kicked with the other! When you got tired of the exercise, and had to sit down, you sat on Major Garth, V.C.--sat hard!"
Severance laughed a little too, her giggle was so contagious. Besides, at last, she did seem to be entering into the spirit of the game. "Something of the sort," he admitted, not without pride in remembered achievements. "The lot of an intruder among us isn't a happy one."
"I should think not, if the rest are like you," said Marise. "I've seen you perfectly horrid to quite inoffensive people you didn't happen to approve of."
"The person you force me to discuss, dear child, is the opposite of inoffensive," amended Severance. "Can't we drop him?"
"You seem to have done so successfully already," said she. "As he's on this ship, homeward bound, the regiment is rid of him, isn't it?"
"I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm not at all sure. He's in mufti, certainly--to insult the good old word! But I understand he still refuses to confess he's beaten, and is only on long leave."
"Oh, he's in mufti! But you'll point him out, if he comes on deck, won't you, boy? After all this talk, I pine to see what he's like. If he passes by----"
"Thank Heaven, he has passed by. He's gone inside, and we're rid of him for the moment."
"Why, yes. Didn't you realise that? Now perhaps you'll understand why we don't want this particular Samson pulling down the pillars of our temples."
"He may have heard what we said! He was walking back and forth part of the time as we talked."
"Who cares if he did hear? It would do him good--be a douche to cool his conceit."
At that instant the back of Severance's head was coldly douched. Something popped: something spurted. A jet of water sprayed over him, fizzing with such force that it blew his gold-laced Guards' cap over his eyes.
Marise and her mother were petrified. They could only gasp.
After the first dazed instant, the girl had a wild inclination to laugh. She suppressed it with the explosive struggle of suppressing a sneeze. Poor, dear Tony! It would be cruel to make fun of him, more cruel than if the top of his head had been blown off! For him--especially at this moment of his high boasting--it was tragic to be made ridiculous. But it was funny--frightfully funny--to see his expression of stunned rage at the accident, as he dried his face and hair with a faintly fragrant, monogramed handkerchief, and wiped something fizzing out of his eyes.