"That? A little thing by a man called Chopin. A polonaise—if you're any wiser."
"Oh, indeed. How I wish we had a better piano!"
"Ah! I shall have my Erard sent out by the next mail."
And the matter dropped; but another, which made a very similar impression, occurred at supper, on the production of champagne.
"Champagne up here!" cried the Englishman, for once surprised out of his drawl. "Good heavens!"
"We got it up specially from Hay," explained the manager, reddening.
"Hay!"
And the new-comer steadily refused to drink even his own health in anything more perilous than very weak whiskey-and-water; and once more his hostess backed him up.
"Fool of a woman," muttered an old overseer under his breath. "I'd like to give him five minutes with my stock-whip!"
