Elizabeth and Her German Garden by Elizabeth von Arnim

Author:Elizabeth von Arnim
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ManyBooks.net

"And Bosh from Berlin," added Irais.

Minora stared. "I don't think those two last ones would do," she said, "because it is not to be a facetious book. But your first one is rather a good title," she added, looking at Irais and drawing out her note-book. "I think I'll just jot that down."

"If you jot down all we say and then publish it, will it still be your book?" asked Irais.

But Minora was so busy scribbling that she did not hear.

"And have you no suggestions to make, Sage?" asked Irais, turning to the Man of Wrath, who was blowing out clouds of smoke in silence.

"Oh, do you call him Sage?" cried Minora; "and always in English?"

Irais and I looked at each other. We knew what we did call him, and were afraid Minora would in time ferret it out and enter it in her note-book. The Man of Wrath looked none too well pleased to be alluded to under his very nose by our new guest as "him."

"Husbands are always sages," said I gravely.

"Though sages are not always husbands," said Irais with equal gravity. "Sages and husbands--sage and husbands--" she went on musingly, "what does that remind you of, Miss Minora?"

"Oh, I know,--how stupid of me!" cried Minora eagerly, her pencil in mid-air and her brain clutching at the elusive recollection, "sage and,-- why,--yes,--no,--yes, of course--oh," disappointedly, "but that's vulgar-- I can't put it in."

"What is vulgar?" I asked.

"She thinks sage and onions is vulgar," said Irais languidly; "but it isn't, it is very good." She got up and walked to the piano, and, sitting down, began, after a little wandering over the keys, to sing.

"Do you play?" I asked Minora.

"Yes, but I am afraid I am rather out of practice."

I said no more. I know what that sort of playing is.

"When we were lighting our bedroom candles Minora began suddenly to speak in an unknown tongue. We stared. "What is the matter with her?" murmured Irais.

"I thought, perhaps," said Minora in English, you might prefer to talk German, and as it is all the same to me what I talk--" "Oh, pray don't trouble," said Irais. "We like airing our English-- don't we, Elizabeth?"

"I don't want my German to get rusty though," said Minora; "I shouldn't like to forget it."

"Oh, but isn't there an English song," said Irais, twisting round her neck as she preceded us upstairs, "''Tis folly to remember, 'tis wisdom to forget'?"

"You are not nervous sleeping alone, I hope," I said hastily.

"What room is she in?" asked Irais.

"No. 12."

"Oh!--do you believe in ghosts?"

Minora turned pale.

"What nonsense," said I; "we have no ghosts here. Good-night. If you want anything, mind you ring."

"And if you see anything curious in that room," called Irais from her bedroom door, "mind you jot it down."

December 27th--It is the fashion, I believe, to regard Christmas as a bore of rather a gross description, and as a time when you are invited to over-eat yourself, and pretend to be merry without just cause.

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