"Yes; that was so. You pick up all the news in the market."
"Yes, sir," replied Mrs. Hulver complacently. She prided herself on possessing an accurate knowledge of the daily events of the town and Ramachetty was well aware that one of the roads to her favour was by way of the gossip that was reliable. Woe betide the unfortunate servant, however, who carried false news!
"What do they say in the town about the school?" asked Wenaston.
"That the boys will all be back by the end of the week. Don't you worry, sir, over those little budmashes. The school is known to be the best in the State under your superintendence. You have no need to run after pupils. They will run after you if you bide your time. As William—that was my third—used to say when I went into the garden to call him in to dinner: 'No occasion for the cook to hunt up the hungry; they won't fail to be where the food is when they're empty.'"
"Anyway I must be careful to see that nothing is done to give offence to the parents of the boys," said Wenaston, anxious to press home his orders.
"I understand, sir. We are to let Mr. Ananda alone. It shall be as you wish, of course. I pity him, I'm sure; but all the same, I would rather not be mixed up with his change of religion. It's turning out a bigger job than he thought. As William—that was my second—used to say: 'When a man bites off a bigger bit than he can chew, he can't look for any assistance from other men's teeth.'"
The school bell rang and Wenaston, punctuality itself, turned away to obey its call. Mrs. Hulver hastened to add her last word which, as usual, was the reflected wisdom of one of the departed.
"As William—that was my third—used to say after I had scolded him for leaning a little too far over towards his weakness: 'A stormy morning brings a clear evening, Maria, me dear, so perhaps your breath has not been wasted.' Everything will come right in the end if you give it time." Then, as Wenaston hurried away, she turned to her son. "William, you sit in the back verandah whilst I change my dress. We'll take a walk in the town and look at the boutiques in the bazaar."
Twenty minutes later Mrs. Hulver issued from her bedroom a very different figure from the white clothed housekeeper, who with cook and butler behind her, went marketing in the morning. Even William, junior, who had just come from London, was impressed by the glossy purple silk that "stood by itself," the white lace scarf and floral bonnet; to say nothing of the odds and ends of glittering jewellery that adorned her ample bust.
Mother and son, in purple silk and scarlet uniform, presented a patch of colour on the green landscape that was arresting to the most careless eye. The sensation created in the town was considerable. It was a kind of triumphal progress. Being fluent in the native language she explained who the stranger was, introducing him to the merchants sitting behind their stalls and to the few Eurasians who lived in Chirapore.