Moon of madness

“ I should love a long glass of iced German lager,” said Nanette. “Besides, I refuse to be deserted for a whole morning.” Her Japanese parasol lay along the rail of the veranda, her round bare elbows rested upon it and she cuddled her obstinate little chin in upturned palms. I turned to her with a glance in which I had meant to convey rebuke. But the blue eyes danced with mischief and pouting lips smiled impudently, a smile half childish and half elfin. “Young ladies of eighteen do not drink beer,” I answered paternally. “It isn’t done.” Jack Kelton came out as I spoke, saw Nanette, and flushed like a girl. When I say “like a girl” I mean like a girl of Victorian literature. To-day one should say “like a boy.” I never saw Nanette blush during all the time I knew her. I saw her grow deathly pale; but this was later. Jack was good to see in the Madeira sunlight; one of those lean-limbed young Oxonians who strip so well and who always look amazingly clean. Nanette turned a slim shoulder in his direction, and stared out pensively across the bay. I thought that she had the most perfect arms imaginable. So did Nanette. “I want to go out with you two and Mr. Ensleigh to that ship,” she said, peering aside at the enraptured Jack. “Please ask Mumsy. She likes you—and I love beer.” Jack and I exchanged glances. We both looked at Nanette; and then beyond to where the subject of controversy lay anchored—a big German out of Bremen, in from the River Plate. “I have asked her,” Jack declared. “She’s adamant.” “So have I,” came a cheery voice—and Ensleigh joined the party. “She says that Mr. Kirby is coming to lunch.” “But I loathe Mr. Kirby!” cried Nanette, turning upon the speaker scornfully. “He’s one of the reasons why I want to go!” “Is that so, Nan?” From a long, awning-covered chair near the corner of the veranda Nanette’s mother arose—a gracefully pretty woman who solved the mystery of Nanette’s beauty for those who had met only her father. “Mumsy! Have you been sitting there all the time?” “All the time, dear—and I have heard every word! So don’t attempt to take one back!” Ensleigh, the well-groomed, became all attention. He became attentive