“It was only with the common, vulgar class that I was so immensely popular.”
“My dear fellow, you are much too humble minded. You were popular with every one.”
“No, by no means; I could have hugged the supercilious old dame who asked me with a drawl if I was in any way related to Pollitt’s patent fowl food? I was delighted to answer with effusion, ‘Nephew, ma’am.’ She despised me from the very bottom of her soul, and made no foolish effort to conceal her feelings.”
“Ah! She had no daughters,” rejoined Waring, with a scornful laugh. “The valet told all about you. He had nothing on earth to do, but magnify his master and consequently exalt himself. Your value is reflected in your gentleman’s gentleman, and he had no mock modesty, and priced you at a cool million! By the way, I saw him driving off just now in the best hotel landau, with his feet on the opposite cushions, and a cigarette in his mouth. He is a magnificent advertisement.”
They were now the centre of a vast mob of hawkers, who formed a squatting circle, and the verandah was fully stocked. The jewellers had already untied their nice little tin boxes from their white calico wrappers, and their contents were displayed on the usual enticing squares of red saloo.
“Waring Sahib!” screamed an ancient vendor with but one eye. “Last time, three four years ago, I see you at Charleville Hotel, Mussouri, I sell your honour one very nice diamond bangle for one pretty lady——”
“Well, Crackett, I’m not such a fool now. I want a neat pearl pin for myself.” He proceeded to deliberately select one from a case, and then added with a grin, “That time, I paying for lady; this time, gentleman,” pointing to Jervis, “paying for me.”
“I can’t stand it,” cried Jervis, jumping to his feet. “Here is the man with the chestnut Arab and the spotted cob with pink legs, that has been persecuting me for two days; and here comes the boy with the stuffed peacock who has stalked me all morning; and—I see the girl in the thunder and lightning waistcoat. I know she is going to ask me to ride with her,” and he snatched up his topee and fled.
Major Byng noticed Jervis at the table d’hôte that evening. He had been cleverly “cut off” from Waring, and was the prey of two over-dressed, noisy young women. Mrs. Pollitt was mistaken, second-rate people did come to India.
“I’ll tell you what, Waring!” he said to that gentleman, who was in his most jovial, genial humour, “that young fellow is most shamefully mobbed. His valet has given him away. If you don’t look out, he will slip his heel ropes and bolt home. Pray observe his expression! Just look at those two women, especially at the one who is measuring the size of her waist with her serviette, for his information. He will go back by the next steamer; it is written on his forehead!”