"You don't mean it? It's been a warm undertaking."

"How did you find the walk, Mr. Egger?"

"Bedad," replied that gentleman, who had got hold of his friend's
exclamation, and used it with killing effect; "I made my possible,
but, bedad, I could not much more."

"You both look warm," Waymark observed, smiling. "I fear you
hurried. You should have been leisurely, as we were."

"Now that's cruel, Waymark. You needn't have reflected upon our
solitariness. If we'd been blessed with society such as you had,
we'd have come slow enough. As it was, we thought a good deal of our
dinners."

No fresh guests appeared to disturb the party. When all had appeased
their hunger, Waymark took a chair out on to the verandah for Ida.
He was spared the trouble of providing in the same way for Sally by
Mr. O'Gree's ready offices. Poor Egger, finding himself deserted,
opened a piano there was in the room, and began to run his finger
over the keys.

"Let us have one of your German songs, my boy," cried O'Gree.

"But it is the Sunday, and we arc still in England," said the Swiss,
hesitating.

"Pooh, never mind," said Waymark. "We'll shut the door. Sing my
favourite, Mr. Egger,--'_Wenn's Mailufterl_.'"