Brock was happy.

He was even interested when a porter came forth and unravelled a long roll of garden hose, with which he abruptly began to splash water upon the concrete surface of the court without regard for distance or direction.

Moreover, he proceeded to water the palms at Brock's elbow, operating from a spot no less than twenty feet away.

He likewise was casting inquiring glances at divers windows--few if any at the plants--until the faithful Charles restored him to earth by means of certain subdued injunctions and less moderate gesticulations, from which it could be readily gathered that "M'sieur was eating, not bathing." Whereupon the utterly uncrushed porter splashed water at right angles, much to Brock's relief, while all his fellow porters, free or engaged, took up the quarrel with rare disregard for cause or justice.

A _femme de chambre_, from a convenient window, joined in the hubbub without in the least knowing what it was all about.