"So I hear you've done the bazaar," said the old man, to Mallender, as he entered. "What do you think of it?"
"Well, sir, it gives me an idea of what India is—without us. It might still be 1700, for all the signs of advancement—I saw people wearing horn spectacles, writing with wood, and buying spells! But I hear that Rakar, the rich merchant, is getting motors,—the roads are capital, I wonder you never thought of one, you can travel over a good bit of country, and without fatigue."
"I declare it's strange, that it never occurred to me! but begad, yes, I'll have one! it will be a change from our three miles out, three miles in. Why, man, I'll get down to Seringapatam, Mysore, Bangalore! How can I buy a car, a good one?"
"In Madras. If I go down, I can choose it for you."
"So you can, but you are not gone yet. Tell me your plans, my boy. Have you made them?—and how are you off for money?"
"All right, thank you."
"Now, that is nonsense," he answered, querulously. "I know your Uncle cut your income, and the house swallowed your capital. How will you live?—you must let the old man give you a hand."
"I'll let the place, and get some interest that way; the shooting is poor, but it's a fine old house and park, and might bring in a few hundreds a year, so I shan't starve, but I hate having nothing to do. I'll try and get into the Territorials, or some other billet."
"Yes, and then I suppose you'll marry! Well, take my advice, young man, benefit by my experience—and look well before you leap!"