Part 15 (1/2)

'_Tinkle, tinkle, ootel ish-star. Ha-a-vunder vart-oo-ar_.'

'Tinkle, tinkle, ootel ish-star. Ha-a-vunder vart-oo-ar_.'

'Tinkle, tinkle, ootel ish-star. Ha-a-vunder vart-oo-ar_.'

The d.a.m.nable iteration went on and on, the fiddles tw.a.n.gled and squeaked, the drum bangers banged, the nautch-girl sidled, and smirked, and shrilled.

'_Tinkle, tinkle, ootel ish-star. Ha-a-vunder vart-oo-ar_.'

Lesley Drummond, sitting in the front row of guests at the reception given by the n.o.bles and landed proprietors of the Province to welcome Sir George Arbuthnot to his new office, shut her eyes at last in sheer despair of being able to reconcile the senses of hearing and sight; then opened them again to stare with unappeasable curiosity into the blaze of light, veiled by a fine film of misty smoke, in which all things seemed clear, yet dim.

It came from the prism-hung chandeliers which hid the low white-marble ceiling, from the wretched paraffin wall-lamps hung against the white-marble pillars, from the paper lanterns swinging from the scalloped white-marble arches. But it came most of all from the garden beyond the arches in which this white-marble summer-palace of a dynasty of dead kings stood, centring the formal walks and watercourses; for it was lit up in long close rows of soft twinkling lights stretching away into the purple shadows of the night, until, climbing to every line, every curve of the purple shadow of the distant city, they showed like new stars upon the purple shadow of the sky.

The radiance of it, the brilliance of it, dazzled the eyes; the dimness, the misty dreaminess of it clouded the brain. She felt drugged, hypnotised out of realities, as she looked towards the dais where Sir George, the Star of his Order almost hidden by one of the huge tinsel garlands which had been thrown round the neck of the guests as they entered, sat in a gilt chair, his solitary figure outlined harshly, by reason of his dark political uniform, against the background of white-marble tracery. Thence she looked to the English ladies in gay _decolletes_ dresses who, with a sprinkling of black coats and red tunics, banked the dais on either side. So to the line of officials and soldiers edging the gangway below the dais. Finally, on to the hosts themselves who sate behind in rows. Rows on rows ablaze with colour and sparkle. Rows on rows imperturbable, pa.s.sive, without a smile or a frown for the scene in which they bore so large a part.

So far, however, despite those great tinsel garlands which were so distracting a novelty upon black coats, scarlet tunics, and _decolletes_ dresses, a certain relevancy to the central idea, embodied in that solitary figure of an elderly Englishman raised above the rest, was not wanting in the details of the spectacle.

But what, thought Lesley, could be said of that group upon the square of red and green-flowered Brussels carpet spread immediately in front of the dais? Spread between the gilt sofa where she sat with Jerry between her and Lady Arbuthnot, and a similar gilt sofa on the other side occupied by the general's wife and her two daughters.

What an inconceivably unsuitable surrounding they made, five Englishwomen and a child, to those other five and a child? Two ragged drum bangers, two dissipated fiddle and guitar tw.a.n.gers, a dreamy-looking boy doing nothing, and the usual posturing dancer, stout as to figure, bunchy as to petticoats, with glued bandeaux of hair and a nasal quavering voice which paused only for furtive swallowings of the betel-nut she was chewing all too palpably!

'_Tinkle, tinkle, ootel ish-star_.' She trilled with an affable, opulent curve of hip and hand towards the _sahib logue_ collectively, for whose delectation she was singing 'Englis fa.s.sen'; an accomplishment she had learned from a girl who had been taught hymns in a mission school.

'_Ha-a-vunder vart-oo-ar_'--she simpered with a special coquettish flirt of her fingers and full petticoat for that respectable father of a family, Sir George, who, honest man, sat horribly conscious, still more horribly bored, yet patient, waiting for the master of the ceremonies to ask him if he had had enough.

Enough?

He looked past the pirouettings to that thin line of white faces, bored yet patient like his own, which fringed those rows on rows of impa.s.sive dark ones, and stifled his yawns duteously for the sake of the Empire.

No such reasons of state, however, swayed Jerry, who, dapper and dainty in knee-breeches, silk stockings, ruffles, and a little garland of his own, sate fidgeting and yawning, yawning and fidgeting. As he looked across the pirouettings he could see his dearest Mr. Raymond dozing with dignity in a chair opposite, with a peculiarly magnificent garland festooned over him. It was bigger than anybody's but dad's, Jerry told himself, feeling a trifle aggrieved, and he wanted to ask why it was so large, when Mr. Raymond was sitting oh! ever so far back!

'_Tinkle, tinkle, ootel ish-star!_'

The drums banged, the fiddles squeaked, the dancer postured, and Jerry yawned with commendable monotony, till, suddenly, the little lad's patience gave way at the two hundred and fifty-sixth time of asking the question--'_Ha-a-vunder vart-oo-ar_.'

'Please!' he said, in his clear child's voice, 'it is the Star of India dad's wearin'. The Queen gave it him for doin' his duty.'

'Hush--hush, Jerry!' came breathlessly from his guardians, but the connection of ideas had been too palpable. A t.i.tter which broke from the ladies behind him made Nevill Lloyd--who as aide-de-camp flanked the dais, resplendent in his horse artillery uniform--absolutely choke in his effort to be dignified, and the joyous crow which resulted quite upset the general commanding. Then this chuckle from the right row of officialdom did for the Secretary-to-Government heading the left, so that his gurgle was the signal for a general roar of laughter to go echoing up into the arches; general so far only as the white faces were concerned. The dark ones of the hosts were immovable, keeping even their surprise to themselves.

'Some one ought, surely, to explain,' said Lesley with a half-puzzled frown, as, the laughter ending, a general stir of relieved chatter showed that the audience had seized on the interruption as an end.

'Explain, my dear?' echoed Sir George, when his wife took advantage of the stir to repeat Lesley's suggestion, and point out the dancing-girl standing sullen, uncertain, whispering to the drum and fiddle; 'I don't think it's worth it, and I don't see how it's to be done. Besides, they ought to have laughed too--they really ought! That crow of Lloyd's----'

'I'm awfully sorry, sir,' put in the offender, trying to be penitent through his smiles; 'I'll tell you what I'll do, Lady Arbuthnot.

Raymond is bossing the supper for them from the club, and all that.

He's president of the committee of entertainment, so I'll get him----'

Sir George frowned. 'We needn't trouble Mr. Raymond, Captain Lloyd.

And as for the interruption, Grace, it rested with me to stop the nautch-girl at any time, and they saw we were amused. That is really all they want.'