Page:Mosquitos (Faulkner).pdf/66

 brightly, a trifle curfously. Mrs. Maurier, oblivious, herded them toward it. “Sit anywhere, people,” she repeated in sing-song. “Girls will be at a premium this voyage. To the winner belongs the fair lady, remember.” This sounded a little strange to her, so she repeated: “Sit anywhere, people; the gentlemen must make” She looked about upon her guests and her voice died away. Her party consisted of Mrs. Wiseman, Miss Jameson, herself, Jenny and Pete clotting unhappily behind her niece, Mr. Talliaferro and her nephew, who had already seated himself. “Where are the gentlemen?” she asked at large.

“Jumped overboard,” muttered Pete darkly, unheard, clutching his hat. The others stood, watching her brightly.

“Where are the gentlemen?” Mrs. Maurier repeated.

“If you’d stop talking a minute you wouldn’t have to ask,” her nephew told her. He had already seated himself and he now spooned into a grapefruit with preoccupied celerity.

“Theodore!” his aunt exclaimed.

From below there came an indistinguishable mixture of sound somehow vaguely convivial. “Whooping it up,” the nephew added, looking up at his aunt at her expression of reproof. “In a hurry,” he explained. “Got to get done. Can’t wait on those birds.” He remarked his sister’s guests for the first time. “Who’re your friends, Gus?” he asked without interest. Then he fell anew upon his grapefruit.

“Theodore!” his aunt exclaimed again. The indistinguishable convivial sound welled, becoming laughter. Mrs. Maurier roved her astonished eyes. “What can they be doing?”

Mr. Talliaferro moved deferentially, tactfully. “If you wish—?”

“Oh, Mr. Talliaferro, if you would be so kind,” Mrs. Maurier accepted with emotion.

“Let the steward go, Aunt Pat. Let’s eat,” the niece said,