Then she descended somewhat heavily, and hurried away to the morghi-khana.
“A good soul, but oh, what clothes!” said Mrs. Potter, looking after the retreating figure. “It is whispered that they are chosen by an envious old maid sister-in-law. I can see a world of spite in that short-waisted gown and the pantomime toque; and yet the poor lady is pleased, and tells us that now she gets everything from home.”
“Never mind the clothes,” put in Mrs. Wolfe, “when the woman inside them is a jewel. She is a sort of godmother to half the station.”
Seeing that I had been abandoned by Mrs. Lakin, Mrs. Potter again turned to talk to me.
“As you have only just arrived, you have seen nothing of India so far except railway stations?”
I coloured with guilt, and nodded a deceitful assent.
Mrs. Potter’s quick black eyes looked me up and down, and then she remarked:
“I dare say you will have a very good time. This is a most interesting place, if you care for that sort of thing; and you can see something of all conditions of men, Asiatic and European. There is, as you know, the great city of Hyderabad, which we may not enter without a pass. Then comes Chudderghat, where the Politicals and the Resident live; he has the finest Residency in India. There are also colleges and the convent of the Holy Rosary. Next we have Secunderabad itself, all shops, and bazaars, and fine old bungalows. That brings us here. Up your way the Army is sprinkled about—artillery and engineers, cavalry and line; this is the largest garrison in India—and now you have the place in a nutshell!”
“Who are these people?” I inquired, as I observed close to the chabutra several handsome dark young men getting out of a large motor.
“Oh, they are some of the Nizam’s entourage, mostly noblemen and officers of the Golconda Lancers. They have been playing polo with the Lighthearts’ team. Your brother is their captain. Of course, you must feel rather strange at first, not knowing a soul in the place!”