Part 16 (2/2)

”Bullah!” sneered a bearded Sikh orderly waiting to carry his master's prayer-book. ”You Poorbeahs can talk glibly of change. And why not?

seeing it is but a change of masters to born slaves. Oil burns to b.u.t.ter! b.u.t.ter to oil!”

The evil face scowled. ”Thou wilt have to shave under thy master, anyhow, Gooroo-jee! Ay! and dock thy pigtail too.”

This allusion to a late ruling against the Nazarene customs of the newly raised Sikh levies might have led to blows--the bearded one being a born fighter--if, the short service coming to an end, the masters had not trooped out, pausing to exchange Christmas greetings ere they dispersed.

”Never saw Mrs. Erlton looking so pretty,” remarked Captain Seymour to his wife, as, with the restored Sonny between them, they moved off to their own house, which stood close by, plumb on the city wall. He spoke in a low voice, but Major Erlton happened to be within earshot.

He turned complacently to identify the speaker, then looked at his wife to see if the remark was true. Scarcely; to Herbert Erlton's quickened recollection of the girl he had married. Yet she looked distinctly creditable, desirable, as she stood, the center of a little group of men and women eager to help her with the Christmas tree. It struck him suddenly, not in the least unpleasantly, that of late his wife had had no lack of aids-de-camp, and that one, Captain Morecombe, the pick of the lot, seemed to have little else to do. A symptom which the Major could explain from his own experience, and which made him smile; he being of those who admire women for being admired.

”I have arranged about the conjuror, Mrs. Erlton,” said Captain Morecombe, who was, indeed, quite ready to do her behests; ”that sweep, Prince Abool-bukr,--who is coming, by the way, to see the show,--has promised me the best in the bazaar. And some Bunjarah fellows who act, and that sort of business.”

”Better find out first what they do act,” put in young Mainwaring, who chafed under the superior knowledge which the Captain claimed as interpreter to the Staff. ”I saw some of those brutes in Lucknow last spring, and----”

”Oh! there is no fear,” retorted the other with a condescending smile.

”The Prince is no fool, and he is responsible. It will most likely be something extremely instructive. Now, Mrs. Erlton, I will drive you round to the College and you can show me anything else you want done.

I can drive you home afterward.”

”Don't think we need trouble you, thanks, Morecombe,” said a voice behind. ”I'll drive my wife. I'll stay as long as you like, Kate; and I can stick things high up, you know.”

There was no appeal in his tone, but Kate, looking up at his great height, felt one; and with it came a fresh spasm of that self-reproach. As she had knelt beside him in church she had been asking herself if she was not unforgiving; if it was not hard on him.

”That will be a great help,” she said soberly.

So Mrs. Seymour, coming in daintily when the hard work was over to put a Father Christmas on the topmost shoot, wondered plaintively how she could have managed it without Major Erlton, and put so much soft admiration into her pretty eyes, that he could scarcely fail to feel a fine fellow. He was in consequence a better one for the time being. So that he insisted on returning in the afternoon to hand the tea and cake, when he made several black-and-tan matrons profusely apologetic and proud at having the finest gentleman there to wait upon them. For the Major was a very fine animal, indeed. As Alice Gissing had told him frankly, over and over again, his looks were his strong point.

The larger portion of the guests were of this black-and-tan complexion. Of varying shades, however, from the unmistakably pure-blooded native Christian, to the pasty-faced baby with all the yellow tones of skin due to its pretty, languid mother, emphasized by the ruddiness of the English father who carried it.

They came chiefly from Duryagunj, a quarter of the city close to the Palace, between the river and the Thunbi Bazaar. It had once been the artillery lines, and now its pleasant garden-set houses were occupied by clerks, contractors, overseers, and such like. Then later on, for the sports and games, came a contingent of College lads, speaking English fluently, and younger boys clinging affrightedly to their father's hand as he smirked and bowed to the special master for whose favor he had perhaps braved bitter tears of opposition from the women at home. The mission school sent orderly bands, and there was a ruck of servants' children, who would have gone to the gates of h.e.l.l for a gift.

”You will tire yourself to death, Kate,” called her husband, as, quite in his element, he handicapped the boys for the races. He spoke in a half-satisfied, half-dissatisfied tone, for though her success pleased him, he fancied she looked less dainty, less attractive.

”Come and see the play,” suggested Captain Morecombe, who did not seem to notice anything amiss. ”It will be rest, and we needn't light up yet a while.”

”I'm going wis zoo,” said Sonny confidently, escaping from his ayah as they pa.s.sed; so, with the child's hand in hers, Kate went on into the long narrow veranda which had been inclosed by tent-walls as a theater. Open to the sunlight at the entrance, it was dark enough to make a swinging lamp necessary at the further end. There was no stage, no scenery, only a coa.r.s.e cotton cloth with indistinguishable shadows and lights on it hung over a rope at the very end. The place was nearly empty. A few native lads squatted in front, a bench or two held a sprinkling of half-castes, and at the entrance a group of English ladies and gentlemen waited for the performance to begin, laughing and talking the while.

”You look quite done,” said Captain Morecombe tenderly, as Kate sank back in the armchair he placed for her halfway down, where a c.h.i.n.k of light and air came through a slit in the canvas.

”I didn't feel tired before,” she replied dreamily. ”I suppose it is the quiet, and the giving in. Tell me about the play, please,” she went on more briskly. ”If I don't know something of the plot before it begins, I shall not understand.”

”I expect you will,” he began; but at that moment a cry for Captain Morecombe arose, and to his infinite anger he had to go off and interpret for the Colonel and Prince Abool-Bukr, who had just arrived.

Kate, to tell truth, felt relieved. After the clamor outside, and the constant appeals to her, the peace within was delightful. She leaned back, with Sonny in her arms, feeling so disposed for sleep that her husband's loud voice coming through the c.h.i.n.k startled her.

”Can't possibly take that into consideration. The race must be run on the runners' own merits only.”

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