Great joy fills the heart of Dandy when a cynical busman sarcastically hails them with “Want a bus, sah?” No matter how fascinating the lady who at that particular moment may be engaging his attention, he steps in the roadway and loudly asks the fare to the swellest hotel he can think of. The grinning busman replies, and then there is much bargaining done in the loudest tones in the public highroad. It is a game of make-believe. The busman pretends that he has found a possible fare, the Dandy pretends that he wanted to be driven to a certain place for a certain sum. Such a scene does not suggest amusement to the Englishman, but it is rare sport to the penniless Dude and superior busman. The end comes only when the busman sees a really possible customer and whips his horse along; then the Dude assumes an air of offended dignity and resumes his conversation with the lady. It is truly a brainless, exquisite Dandy. With similar characteristics but employing very different methods is the coloured lady of extreme fashion. She dresses as extravagantly as the dandiest Dandy; she wears vivid colours in cheap silks or heavy brocades or velvets; she affects coloured picture-hats of huge dimensions, and her foot-wear is always made in brilliant patent-leather; but she is not so poor or [Illustration: ON THE ROAD TO MARKET, JAMAICA] so adventurous as the Dandy. She is careful in her conversation. A polite accent is her chief ambition. She simpers and lisps and uses pigeon English, and when she is forced to laugh she screens her face with a scented cambric handkerchief. She is a coloured lady, and not the richest, boldest busman dare claim her friendship, though it may be that one of them is her husband. Her friends are among the chapel people; the preachers, the deacons, and the gentleman of the choir. She will condescend to notice West Indian non-commissioned officers, but in doing this she is reaching to her lowest limit. Her ambition is to be counted rich and beautiful. She is a lady of colour and fashion. Call her a negress and she will faint with indignant shame. Her husband is a citizen with a vote, and she is his lady. Though she parades the High Streets her object is simply to be admired. Though she is an absolute coquette, her desire is not to make chance acquaintance with the unimportant natives on the side walks. If a white man, or a rich man who is nearly white, looks and looks again--well that of course is a different matter. Harmless types, both of them. Both the Dandy and the coloured lady of extreme fashion are amusing, picturesque, and harmless. They have elected to play droll parts in the game of life; it may be that they lack perspective, but certainly they possess great imagination. Their’s is a part of make-believe, and they play it with great seriousness. [Illustration: A HOUSE NEAR THE BOG WALK, JAMAICA] BOG WALK CHAPTER XIV BOG WALK