When they had arrived at their domain, once the Chaplain's Quarters, the Misses Beaufort—their father making a spacious background—overwhelmed the recent arrival with a loud and simultaneous invitation "to tea, pot luck—or tennis, whatever he pleased," to which he returned a polite, but indefinite reply. Such was the clamour and urgency of talk, that it was some time before he and Tom were able to effect their departure, and as they turned towards the Dâk Bungalow, Tom said:
"Those two are a topping good sort, and stand any amount of chaff. The most kind-hearted girls in India; they can dance and play tennis, and make scrumptious native sweets and curries. Captain Beaufort has to do with the Roads, his wife is never on show, I fancy she is a bit too dark—these people get darker as they age. It's awfully rough on them, I must say!"
"Have your sisters no other companions?" enquired Mallender.
"Not in Wellunga, but lots in the Hills. I may as well tell you, they won't be here long. Jessie is engaged to a missionary in Tinnevelly, and Tara is going to marry a young planter—a friend of my own. As the baby of the family, she may strike a stranger as a little bit spoiled—but she's as good as gold, and as good as she looks."
"She is uncommonly handsome, if you do not mind my saying so."
"No, why shouldn't you? Sometimes she carries on like a great lady, and has uncommonly high notions, I can tell you! and where she gets them, beats me."
This remark brought them to the Dâk Bungalow, where a yawning Anthony awaited his master, and as his master took leave of Tom Beamish, he said:
"Can you help me to get a trap and ponies, that will take me back to the railway?"
"To be sure I can," he replied, "but not yet. You must stop with us for a little, and talk to the General; you brighten him up, and give him such pleasure,—and he has so little pleasure in life now, poor old boy. After a bit, I'll lay a dâk for you, and drive you the sixty miles myself—yes, and with the General's best horses. Come now, don't say no, see you to-morrow!" and before Mallender could argue or reply, he received a heavy thump on the back,—suggestive of ease and intimacy, and Tom Beamish was gone.