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Updated: May 26, 2025
'I came home early because I want to alter the lace on my yellow bodice for tonight. It's too disgusting as it is. But I was rather glad to get away from Mrs. Mickie's lot. So rowdy! 'And I came because I had a special reason for wanting to speak to you. Mrs. Violet's lips parted, and her breath, in spite of herself, came a little faster.
They seldom speak of Simla, and when they do, if too reminiscent a spark appears in Mrs. Mickie's eye, Mrs. Gammidge changes the subject. Kitty Vesey still fills her dance cards at Viceregal functions, though people do not quote her as they used to, and subalterns imagine themselves vastly witty about her colour, which is unimpaired.
Baked in the ashes the chrysalids have a wholesome, clean appearance, with a flavour of coco-nut, and the "white fella" always came in for his share. Mickie's bush craft, his knowledge of the habits of birds and insects and the ways of fish, is enviable. Signs and sounds quite indeterminate to "white fellas" are full of meaning to him.
The passage staircase between Scott's and Mickie's had a hardened look, and bore witness to the habit of expectoration; ladies, going up to Dr Simmons, held their skirts up and the corners of their mouths down. Dr Simmons was the dentist: you turned to the right.
I saw only the peaceful side of Mickie's nature, and therefore this chronicle will be unsensational as well as imperfect. There is a tradition that the Palm Island blacks are of a milder, less bellicose disposition, than those of the mainland opposite.
Mickie's views as to the future are not quite explicit. "Suppose me go bung, me go alonga sky. Bi'mby jump up 'nother fella." He is not at all certain whether the transformation would be into a white man or not; in fact he appears absolutely indifferent. Another time he will say "Suppose me go bung. Good-bye, finish; no come back. Plenty fella alonga Palm Island go bung. He no come back."
I don't know how you have the conscience after drinking three cups at Mrs. Mickie's, where I had no business to take you! Tomorrow? Oh, all right if you want to VERY badly. But I won't promise you strawberries they're nearly all gone. There was the sound of a departing pony's trot, and Mrs. Innes came into the drawing-room.
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