Oh, listen ye, Miss Sahibas;
These are the Mission rules!
“Bravo!” cried Harold, as the chorus was concluded; “that is no bad lesson for Miss Sahibas to learn.”
“Or Mem Sahibas either,” said Alicia laughing. “I suppose that the duties of married and unmarried are much alike, only the Mems may leave the snake-slaying to their lord and masters.”
CHAPTER IV
INDIAN TRAVELLING.
The Hartleys soon left their pleasant place of sojourn, and started on their journey towards Talwandi. The piano and large packing-cases had been sent on before by a luggage train; and Harold had arranged that a big bullock-cart should meet them at the station where the railway-line must be quitted. Nothing could be pleasanter to the young couple than the journey as long as it could be made by train, though, for economy’s sake, the carriage which they occupied was second class. The travellers were to descend at the station of Chuanwál, twenty miles from Talwandi. Harold had made every possible arrangement beforehand for the comfort of his young bride. He had secured a dák-gári (the Indian substitute for a post-chaise) in which she should accomplish the last part of the journey.
Chuanwál was reached. After helping Alicia down to the platform, and rapidly emptying the carriage of two big rolls of bedding, umbrellas, a hamper, and six or seven other articles which must on no account be left behind, Harold looked for the station-master.
“You have been good enough to lay our dák; a carriage is ready, I hope?” said Harold.
“Here is the munshi, sir; he will explain,” said the station-master, as a stout, dark, sensuous-looking man came forward, book in hand and pencil behind his thick ear, proud of an opportunity of airing his stock of English.