“But your dandy is in smithereens!” said Captain Waring. “What is to be done?”
“I know what has been done. Young man,” solemnly addressing herself to Jervis, “you saved my life, as sure as I sit here, and you stand there. If you had not had the courage to throw the rug over his head, he would have come down the khud, and gored me to death—I’m not a woman of many words” (fond delusion) “but I won’t forget it—nor will P.” In moments of unusual excitement, or when with her intimates, she invariably spoke of her husband as “P.”
“Oh, Mrs. Brande,” he replied, “you think a great deal too much of it—it was only a buffalo.”
“Only a buffalo!” she repeated. “You little know them; in another minute I’d have been only a corpse. They are the most dangerous brutes you can come across, and so cunning. Ha,” changing her voice to another and sharper key, “Jait Sing, you base coward! I shall cut every one’s pay two rupees. I’ve a mind to stop your wood tickets. What a contrast to you,” she pointed her fat finger straight at Jervis. “Lions, indeed, as all these Sings call themselves—pretty lions—you are the bravest young man I ever saw!”
“Oh come, I say, Mrs. Brande,” expostulated Waring, playfully. “You don’t know what I could do if I tried.”
“Well, as you did not try, I cannot say,” she answered dryly.
“It’s not such a marvellous feat, driving off an old buffalo——”
“Depends upon the humour the buffalo is in; and I’m surprised at you belittling your own cousin, instead of being proud of him,” pursued the lady with considerable heat, and entirely forgetting her intended rôle with respect to this millionaire.
“How are you to get on, aunt?” inquired Honor; “but of course you must go in my dandy and I can walk.”
“By no means, Miss Gordon; you shall ride my pony,” said Captain Waring. “He has a grand roomy old saddle and a fine broad back, and I will hold you from slipping off.”