She gave her hand to Eve.
"This is my brother, Miss Fountain."
Miss Fountain instantly swept David a courtesy with such a grace and
flow, coupled with an engaging smile, that the sailor was fascinated,
and gazed instead of bowing.
Eve had her finger ready to poke him, when he recovered himself and
bowed low.
Eve played the accompaniment with her hand, knuckles down.
They sat down. Cups of tea, etc., were brought round to each by John.
It was bad tea, made out of the room. Catch a human being making good
tea in which it is not to share.
Mr. Fountain was only half awake.
Eve was more or less awed by Lucy. David, tutored by Eve, held his
tongue altogether, or gave short answers.
"This must be what the novels call a sea-cub!" thought Miss Fountain.
The friends, Propriety and Restraint, presided over the innocent
banquet, and a dismal evening set in.
The first infraction of this polite tranquillity came, I blush to say,
from the descendant of John de Fonte. He exploded in a yawn of
magnitude; to cover this, the young lady began hastily to play her old
game of setting people astride their topic, and she selected David
Dodd for the experiment. She put on a warm curiosity about the sea,
and ships, and the countries men visit in them. Then occurred a droll
phenomenon: David flashed with animation, and began full and
intelligent answers; then, catching his sister's eye, came to
unnatural full stops; and so warmly and skillfully was he pressed that
it cost him a gigantic effort to avoid giving much amusement and
instruction.
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