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He readdressed himself to the telephone, and I kept my eye on the building to the southward. A Blue Peter climbed up to the top of the flagstaff that crowned it and blew out in the summer breeze. A black storm-cone followed. "Inspection for F.S. corps acknowledged, Sir," said Burgard down the telephone. "Now we'd better go to the riding-school. The battalion falls in there.
Bot go!" he cried, "and zen come back here to-morrow and ve vill leave togezzer." "Leave you alone, with the barometer falling and the storm-cone hoisted? I don't like to, Baron." "Bot to leave zat leetle girl eh, Bonker? How is zat?" "Was ever a man so torn between two duties!" exclaimed the conscientious Count. "Ladies come first!" quoth the Baron.
The domestic storm-cone was hoisted, and I shipped myself on board a small trading vessel bound from Constantinople, by classic seas whose every wave throbs with a deathless memory, to the Grecian Islands and the Levant. Those were golden days and balmy nights!
When the matter, however, had in our presence to be referred to with nods and pronouns, with significant hiatuses and interpolations in the French tongue, then the red flag was flown, the storm-cone hoisted, and by a studious pretence of inattention we were not long in plucking out the heart of the mystery.
The domestic storm-cone was hoisted, and I shipped myself on board a small trading vessel bound from Constantinople, by classic seas whose every wave throbs with a deathless memory, to the Grecian Islands and the Levant. Those were golden days and balmy nights!
"I didn't see the storm-cone till half-past three. I was at the Club." "Weren't a good many of you out of town?" "Not this Saturday. We knew what was coming. You see, if we pull through the inspection we may move up one place on the roster for foreign service.... You'd better stand back. We're going to pillow-fight."
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