The conversation was the same as before, except that it was a little
more general, and louder in tone; for the guests had become more
intimate, and as Robbie Walling's wines of priceless vintage poured
forth, they became a little "high." The young lady who sat on
Montague's right was a Miss Vincent, a granddaughter of one of the
sugar-kings; she was dark-skinned and slender, and had appeared at a
recent lawn fete in the costume of an Indian maiden. The company
amused itself by selecting an Indian name for her; all sorts of
absurd ones were suggested, depending upon various intimate details
of the young lady's personality and habits. Robbie caused a laugh by
suggesting "Little Dewdrop"--it appeared that she had once been
discovered writing a poem about a dewdrop; some one else suggested
"Little Raindrop," and then Ollie brought down the house by
exclaiming, "Little Raindrop in the Mud-puddle!" A perfect gale of
laughter swept over the company, and it must have been a minute
before they could recover their composure; in order to appreciate
the humour of the sally it was necessary to know that Miss Vincent
had "come a cropper" at the last meet of the Long Island Hunt Club,
and been extricated from a slough several feet deep.
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