"O highly born one," explained the driver, "the camels are not a gift—but the loads which are upon the camels. Suffer us, therefore, since we dare not disobey our lord's commands, to carry these trifling tokens of his good will into thy dwelling and depart in peace."
Horace had not noticed till then that every camel bore a heavy burden, which the attendants were now unloading. "Oh, if you must!" he said, not too graciously; "only do look sharp about it—there's a crowd collecting already, and I don't want to have a constable here."
He returned to his rooms, where he found Mrs. Rapkin paralysed with amazement. "It's—it's all right," he said; "I'd forgotten—it's only a few Oriental things from the place where that brass bottle came from, you know. They've left them here—on approval."
"Seems funny their sending their goods 'ome on camels, sir, doesn't it?" said Mrs. Rapkin.
"Not at all funny!" said Horace; "they—they're an enterprising firm—their way of advertising."
One after another, a train of dusky attendants entered, each of whom deposited his load on the floor with a guttural grunt and returned backward, until the sitting-room was blocked with piles of sacks, and bales, and chests, whereupon the head driver appeared and intimated that the tale of gifts was complete.
"I wonder what sort of tip this fellow expects," thought Horace; "a sovereign seems shabby—but it's all I can run to. I'll try him with that."
But the overseer repudiated all idea of a gratuity with stately dignity, and as Horace saw him to the gate, he found a stolid constable by the railings.
"This won't do, you know," said the constable; "these 'ere camels must move on—or I shall 'ave to interfere."
"It's all right, constable," said Horace, pressing into his hand the sovereign the head driver had rejected; "they're going to move on now. They've brought me a few presents from—from a friend of mine in the East."