“Mr. Raymond has promised me two lovely Arabs for my carriage. I have never ridden, and he says he does not wish me to learn.”
“No? Well, as he is a rich man, you will have to allow your servants to fleece you to a certain extent. You won’t get grain, and meat, and poultry, as cheap as others; but be sure and settle your accounts with the cook weekly—never let them run on. Be very particular about this!”
“Yes, I’ll remember.”
“Then about society. You have to call first on all the old residents—married people, I mean; but the bachelors, of course, come and call on you.”
Here Mr. Raymond’s face was a study.
“The visiting hours are between twelve and two, the hottest time of the day—and awful in the plains—but every one goes out in the evening, riding or driving, and the young men are playing cricket or polo, so it’s the only time you find people in.”
“And who returns the young men’s visits?”
“Your husband—or you ask them to dinner; I dare say they like that better, especially if the hostess is a pretty woman, and has a good cook. I hope my little hints will come in useful. I have no doubt you will have a very gay time.”
“Do you think so?” beaming as she spoke.
“Yes, it’s a pity you do not ride; but of course you dance, and there will be lots of balls and partners for you, and tiffins, and dinners, and tennis; and you will find that your partners will often drop in and look you up in the afternoons. It civilizes young men to have afternoon tea, and I suppose your husband won’t mind?”