"Not since you came down to Eton on the 4th of June, and gave me a jolly good tip."
"Did I?—ha! ha! You have a long memory. Well, where are you staying? Or did you come straight from the station?"
"No; I arrived last night. I'm at a pot-house that calls itself 'Hotel St. George,' and reeks of rancid cocoanut oil. My driver introduced me."
"Good Lord, it's in Blacktown! I beg its pardon—Georgetown! Of course, you come to us at once. I'll send over a fellow to pack, and bring your kit. We are pretty full, as this is the season, but Fanny will find you a corner."
"Oh, don't you bother about me," protested his cousin, "I'm only going to stop in Madras for two or three days, just to see you, get the hang of the country, and benefit of your experience—I expect you can give me lots of tips, and I want to arrange about money and letters, before I go off on my travels!"
"But, my dear boy," said Colonel Tallboys, sitting down as he spoke, and pointing to a chair, "you don't mean to tell me, that you are really serious about this business? You are not in earnest, in starting on such a wild-goose chase?"
"But of course I am, and in deadly earnest; that is what brought me out here, in the middle of the hunting season."
The young fellow with his mother's eyes, and her impulsive and warm-hearted nature, had also inherited his father's square jaw, and (cold thought) possibly been cursed with Edgar's stubborn will,—and curious strain of eccentricity!
For a few seconds Colonel Tallboys surveyed his visitor in grave speculative silence. At last he said:
"Well, look here, Geoffrey; you may as well spend two or three weeks with us, and see how the poor benighted Presidency enjoys itself? There are a couple of balls, a big gymkhana, and the polo tournament coming off. This is our cold weather."