Part 9 (1/2)

”Look here, little Jane, why send that big landau to the Kutchery for me? You know I prefer my little bandy.”

”Of course, I know, daddy, but mother said the landau was to fetch you this afternoon.”

”I did, James,” said Mrs. Goldring, coming forward. ”You will persist in coming straight from the Kutchery to tennis in that hideous little band-box of yours and stepping out of it like a Jack-in-the-box. You've no regard for appearances--it doesn't do! And you, Jane, are just the same, you encourage your father--”

”She does,” returned the Judge, with a smile and a loving glint in his blue eyes as they rested on his daughter. ”Well, I suppose I must go and make myself as gay and festive as you are,” he added, looking admiringly at Jane's faded toilette without the least consciousness of its defects.

”First your cup of tea, daddy,” said Jane, bounding off and returning with a special brew in a lovely Sevres cup and saucer which had been her gift to him.

”A very bad habit you're getting your father into giving him tea before he goes out. And Mrs. Samptor looks furious when he declines her cakes--not that I specially desire to save her feelings,” added Mrs.

Goldring, recalling the sting of the recent interview.

”Ah, but I do,” said the Judge. ”So not even a single biscuit with my tea, Jane, that I may do full justice to Mrs. Samptor's cakes, which are excellent, and made by her own tiny fingers.”

”Oh, don't you be paying her any compliments. She's quite conceited enough already. I've had her here not five minutes ago with no end of t.i.ttle-tattle--quite upset me!”

”No end of t.i.ttle-tattle in Puranapore! She must have a lively imagination! I'm sure I've heard nothing exciting at the Kutchery to-day.”

”I shall tell you her news afterwards,” said Mrs. Goldring, pursing up her lips as she rose from her chair. ”We'd better not keep the horses waiting longer. I hear the Collector is to be there. I want a word with him if possible.”

”By the way, I did hear a bit of news to-day after all. The new a.s.sistant has arrived! I shouldn't wonder if Worsley brings him round to the Samptors'.”

”That I should think very unlikely from what I've heard this afternoon, knowing the Collector as I do,” returned Mrs. Goldring with an emphatic air. ”Come, Jane,--how you do loll about! Why did you not put on that new frock I took such trouble to order for you instead of that blue rag your aunts sent?”

”I was just thinking what a pretty blue it was, and how well it matches Jeannie's 'germander' eyes,” said the Judge with a smile, patting his daughter on the shoulder as she followed her mother to the carriage.

CHAPTER X.

Mrs. Samptor, in her role of hostess, welcomed Mrs. Goldring with ceremonious effusiveness, ignoring their parting a few minutes previously. Every time the afternoon entertainment revolved to her compound, Mrs. Samptor felt the delight and importance of the occasion, and certainly she spared no pains to make it pleasant. The fact of her being country born and bred, though it had not impaired her British energy, had given her a mastery over the details of domestic life never attained among the changing Anglo-Indian society. A notable housekeeper, she was well versed in all the tricks of native servants, and got better service from them than anyone else in the station, albeit she ruled them with an iron rod. In bazaar dealing, gardening, pickle-making, and all housewifery lore she was supreme. Being childless, her whole devotion was given to her husband, a big, square-shouldered man with a handsome, good-natured face, who looked like a giant beside his tiny wife as he came forward to greet the visitors.

The only other guests as yet were the young engineer and his wife, and being recent comers, were patronised by the hostess. They sat obediently under the safe shade of a spreading peepul tree on the lawn, where stood the tea-table, which was covered by a spotless linen cloth and groaning with proofs of Mrs. Samptor's skill in the manufacture of cakes.

The Judge at once linked his arm into the jailer's and began to stroll down a shady walk.

”Talking shop, of course! Mrs. Goldring, you should really keep your husband in better order! What can a humble Superintendent of the District Jail do when the Judge leads him into temptation?” said Mrs.

Samptor banteringly.

”Yes, the worst of it is, daddy promised to eat a lot of your cakes,”

remarked Jane bluntly, while her mother groaned inwardly.

”Did he now, dear? How sweet of the Judge! You just go after him, Jane, and pull his coat-tails and remind him of his promise. As for Harry, he won't ever touch anything between tiffin and dinner. But when he eats--he eats!” said Mrs. Samptor, with pantomimic gestures.

”And yet you tempt weaker men by your nice cakes,” exclaimed the doctor, who had just arrived. ”Is that quite moral?”

”Strictly so, Dr. Campbell, since I happen to know that you haven't broken your fast since early breakfast!”

”How came you to know, Mrs. Samptor? Was it one of the spirits said to inhabit peepul trees that whispered it? Really you are not canny!”

Mrs. Goldring glanced more approvingly at the doctor than she generally did. He was right, this divining little woman was not ”canny.”