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Updated: May 15, 2025
The change was nearly as abrupt as that so often experienced by our seamen, who at the rate of sixteen knots an hour plunge from a temperature of eighty degrees to one of thirty degrees in about three days. We, with the ready adaptability of seamen, soon got accustomed to the bleak, bitter weather, but the Kanakas wilted like hothouse plants under its influence.
Nobody turns up his or her nose at the cup of tea, the delicately cut sandwiches, the tiny cakes that are handed round during the course of the evening. Nobody goes away groaning, "Heavens! how hungry I am!" Madame la Marquise cannot afford to give her friends pâté de foie gras and hothouse strawberries, and they neither expect to have them nor blame her for not offering them.
Afternoon tea was just being served, consisting, besides tea, of homemade strawberry jam and lettuce sandwiches made of crisp fresh bread, with plenty of butter; and certain elderly ladies had just arrived, bringing with them, among other contributions, sheaves of flowers and a dogcart loaded with hothouse fruit and a dozen loaves of plumcake, which last were still hot from the oven and which radiated a mouth-watering aroma as a footman bore them in behind his mistress.
"I shopped it for you." "You, too you're in linen, Hester?" "A percale shirt waist. I shopped it for you, too." "Give me your hand," he said, and pressed a string of close kisses into its palm. The simplicity of the outrageous subterfuge amazed even her. She held hothouse grapes at two dollars a pound to his lips, and he ate them through a smile. "Naughty, extravagant girl!" he said.
"That is correct," he said. "I have a good deal to tell you and it may take some time." Signing him to be seated, Challoner rang a bell, and wine and cigars and hothouse fruit were brought in. These he offered his guest, who helped himself freely and then said, "Your nephew spent a week in the settlement where I live, preparing for a journey to the North.
He had caught sight of an enormous bunch of hothouse flowers in a vase on the floor by the writing-table. Stanistreet's card was in the midst of the bunch, and a note from Stanistreet lay open on the writing-table. There was an ominous pause while Tyson read it. It was curt enough; only an offer of flowers and a ticket for the "Lyceum."
There was a tumbler standing beside the photograph with a bunch of hothouse flowers in it, the one bright spot of colour in the dingy chamber. He took this in his disengaged hand, and nodding and smiling anew at the pretty girl's portrait, he turned about again, and walked into a bedroom beyond a narrow and inconvenient little window.
"I don't see it," said Gorman, "unless you mean that they'd be eating hothouse peaches if there were no Aschers." I did not mean that. I am, indeed, pretty sure that if there were no Aschers, if Gorman succeeded in abolishing the class, neither the city clerk, nor his pretty wife, nor any one else in England would eat hothouse peaches. There would not be any.
In the great fresco, each individual of the multitude that fills a public place, or defiles in open procession under the noonday light, is not only a masterpiece of fashion, but a model of neatness; linen, delicate as woven gossamer, falls into folds as finely exact as an engraver's point could draw; velvet shoes tread without speck or spot upon the well-scoured pavement of a public street; men-at-arms grasp weapons and hold bridles with hands as carefully tended as any idle fine gentleman's, and there is neither fleck nor breath of dimness on the mirror-like steel of their armour; the very flowers, the roses and lilies that strew the way, are the perfection of fresh-cut hothouse blossoms; and when birds and beasts chance to be necessary to the composition of the picture, they are represented with no less care for a more than possible neatness, their coats are combed and curled, their attitudes are studied and graceful, they wear carefully made collars, ornamented with chased silver and gold.
He is a very good sort, and she is a perfect darling, one of those rare flowers whose fragrance fills the air even on the highway; not one of the hothouse kind that has been forced to bloom out of season, for out of season and in season she is always blooming and shedding forth her sweetness." Miss Dorothy paused.
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