"Are they, Mrs. Hulver? What do they want?"
Although he asked the question he was able to give a shrewd guess as to the reason of their presence.
"They want you; and they mean mischief. You must just sit here for a while, and when the coast is clear you can get away safely. I was in the town this morning. I tell you it is in a ferment over your coming to the college, and it isn't safe for you to be seen about in broad daylight. Those young limbs of mischief mean to do you some hurt."
This was the work of his uncle, he was convinced; but he did not express his thoughts aloud. He thanked Mrs. Hulver for her kindly offices and sat down to wait. She gave him a book to read, and did her best to make him feel at ease.
"You stay and dine with me. A good hot square meal will do you no harm. It will be cooked by myself in the verandah and it will be ready soon after twelve—hot soup, fried fish, vegetable curry and stewed guavas; and we will eat it here in this room. As William—that was my first husband—used to say: 'Better be in at the end of a feast than the beginning of a fight'—and a losing fight it will be for you, Mr. Ananda, if you get among those boys in their present temper."
CHAPTER XIV
A surprise was in store for Mrs. Hulver the next morning in the shape of a telegram from her son. He had arrived at Bangalore, and he proposed taking three days' leave to pay his mother a visit at once. Her head was fairly turned with delight, and she hurried off to tell the good news to her young mistress. She thrust the telegram into Eola's hand.
"Read it, miss. You will have to go through it two or three times before you can take it all in; at least, I had to do so; but then I'm flurried; and as William—that was my second—used to say: 'Flurry never fires straight!'"
"Can we manage to put him up?" asked Eola, wondering whether she ought to offer her pretty spare room to the young corporal.