Highland Fling Read Online Free PDF Page B

Piccadilly in their coronets if they want to be taken in the smart tumbrils, and even then I expect people would think they were an advertisement for something.’
    At this moment the magnificent personage strolled up towhere Walter and Sally were sitting and said that Lord Craigdalloch was about to speak and if they would care to follow him he would conduct them to the Strangers’ Gallery, which he then proceeded to do, leading them up and down several corridors and staircases until they came to a small door, through which he pushed them into inky blackness. They groped their way to seats into which they subsided thankfully. Far below them there emerged from the gloom a sort of choked muttering.
    After a few moments their eyes became more or less accustomed to the darkness and they were able to distinguish various objects – the throne, the Peeresses’ Galley, occupied by the stately figure of Lady Craigdalloch, who blew kisses to them, and two or three large tables at which some men were writing. Finally, they recognized Lord Craigdalloch. He was standing near one of the tables, and the muttering seemed to proceed from his lips. Sally was sorry, though in no way surprised, to notice that his audience consisted solely of themselves, Aunt Madge, an old bearded man seated on one of the benches with a pair of crutches just out of his reach and another stretched at full length on a red divan.
    The Monteaths feverishly endeavoured to catch a few words of what their uncle was saying, but without success. As they sat straining their ears, two Frenchmen were shown into the gallery and, feeling their way to a seat, began to converse in whispers. They seemed much intrigued by the man on the divan.
    ‘Dites donc, ce lord sur le sofa, il est saoul?’
    ‘Je dirais plutôt malade.’
    ‘Eh bien, moi j’crois qu’il est ivre.’
    ‘Que c’est lugubre ici.’
    ‘Oui, rudement rasant.’
    Lord Craigdalloch now raised his voice slightly and the words, ‘the noble lord behind me …’ were heard.
    ‘The noble lord behind him has evidently slipped away,’ murmured Sally, observing the rows of empty benches.
    The old man with the beard now began to scrabble feverishly for his crutches, and finally, after a prolonged and unsuccessful effort to reach them, took off his watch-chain and lassoed one of them with it. He then hooked the other one with the crutch part and drew it towards him. Having planted them firmly underneath his armpits he hopped away with incredible agility, not, however, before Lord Craigdalloch had just time to say, loudly and portentously, ‘My noble friend opposite.’
    The departure of the only conscious member of his audience seemed now to spur him to greater vocal efforts and whole sentences could be heard at a time.
    ‘I am convinced, m’lords, that this danger is very real. It is a very real danger. What did Scipio Africanus say?’ Here he began struggling with the notes he held in his hand, but was evidently unable to find what Scipio Africanus had said. The sleeper on the divan, subconsciously aware that something was expected of him, turned rather heavily and groaned out, ‘ ’Ear! ’ear!’
    ‘M’lords, it has been said in another place,’ continued the speaker in no way put out by this slight setback, ‘that it is a very real danger. The Dukeries, m’lords, with all due respect to the noble duke behind me, are
not
to be confounded with the Fisheries. As my noble friend has so aptly remarked, it is anomalous to pretend that they are analogous.…’
    Another rather younger peer now came in, sat down opposite the divan and began to read some letters.
    ‘Enfin, on vient au secours du pauvre vieux.’
    ‘Mais non, il n’y fait même pas attention.’
    ‘Mon Dieu! Eh bien, voilà. C’est le flegme Britannique. Que voulez-vous? Dites donc, si on partait? Ce n’est pas follement gai ici.’
    ‘Est-ce qu’on ôse?’
    ‘Allons. Filons vite. Courage, mon ami.’
    The Frenchmen got up and