His Hour

She glowed with annoyance. Did he think she had come to look at him?

Did he--he certainly was quite uninterested, for he must have

recognized her; but perhaps not; people look so different in large

straw hats to what they appear with scarves of chiffon tied over their

heads. But why had she come this way at all? She wished a thousand

times she had suggested going round the pyramids instead.

"Tamara," said Mrs. Hardcastle, when they were safely descending the

further sand-path, with no unclothed young giant in view, "did you see

there was a man in that chair? What a dreadful person to be lying on

the balcony--undressed!"

"I never noticed," said Tamara, without a blush. "I am surprised at you

having looked, Millie--when this view is so fine."

"But, my dear child, I could not possibly help seeing him. How you did

not notice, I can't think; he had pyjamas on, Tamara--and bare feet!"

Mrs. Hardcastle almost whispered the last terrible words.

"I suppose he felt hot," said Tamara; "it is a grilling day."

"But really, dear, no nice people, in any weather, remain--er--

undressed at twelve o'clock in the day for passers-by to look at--do

they?"

"Well, perhaps he isn't a nice person," allowed Tamara. "He may be mad.

What was he like, since you saw so much, Millicent?"

Mrs. Hardcastle glanced over her shoulder reproachfully. "You really

speak as though I had looked on purpose," she said. "He seemed very

long--and not fat. I suppose, as his hair was not very dark, he must be

an Englishman."

"Oh, dear, no!" exclaimed Tamara. "Not an Englishman." Then seeing her

friend's expression of surprise, "I mean, it isn't likely an Englishman

would lie on his balcony in pyjamas--at least not the ones we see in

Cairo; they--they are too busy, aren't they?"

This miserably lame explanation seemed to satisfy Millicent. It was too

hot and too disagreeable, she felt, clinging to the donkey while it

descended the steep path, to continue the subject further, having to

turn one's head over the shoulder like that; but when they got on the

broad level she began again: "Possibly it was a madman, Tamara, sent here with a keeper--in that

out-of-the-way place. How fortunate we had the donkey boys with us!"

Tamara laughed.

"You dear goose, Millie, he couldn't have eaten us up, you know; and he

was not doing the least harm, poor thing. We should not have gone that

way; it may have been his private path."