With that he drew out his revolver and went in; and Lesley, following him, locked the door behind her.
[CHAPTER XXIII]
A MEMORABLE OCCASION
'A Memorable occasion!'
The phrase seemed, somehow, to be inevitable on the further side of the city, where, as Râm Nâth had foretold, all of Nushapore that was worth considering was gathered together for the ceremony of laying the foundation-stone of the Anglo-Vernacular College. Râm Nâth may have started the assertion, but every one else followed suit. Sir George in his presidential address, the treasurer in his financial statement, the distinguished native official who--in proposing the vote of thanks to Lady Arbuthnot for her able assistance--managed to drag in the Dufferin fund and the benefits of female education by the way! So, one by one, the delegates of the various sects and associations who were, blissfully, to forget their differences over----over this memorable occasion!
Some added a 'most' to it; others went so far as to say it marked an era; while a peculiarly eloquent speaker went one better by introducing the 'Annals of Empire.'
But the point on which they were all agreed was--that it was 'a memorable occasion.'
And there was curiously little unreality about the assertion, for everybody went about with a noticeable satisfaction that was due to a feeling of duty done. It was all infinitely proper; also pleasing, for when the initial ceremony was over and a pause came for tea between it and the giving of diplomas, it was quite a pretty sight to see the mixed multitude walking about admiring and criticising the building, that some time or another--for funds at the moment were a trifle low--would be built. And this had been made possible by the ingenious and distinctly novel device of laying out the site as a lawn, on which narrow beds of flowers followed the lines of the foundations to come, while in the centre, under what was to be the central dome, stood a model (large enough to allow the delighted native visitors to creep through it if they chose), which had been made of bamboo, brown paper, and mud plaster by a distinguished toy artist in the city, who had had long practice in the making of tazzias[[18]] for the Mohurrum processions.
He stood beside his latest creation now, a perfect incarnation of smile in spotless white robes, with a muslin skullcap on his well-oiled hair, ready to receive congratulations on his work. They were many, though the English people kept theirs chiefly for the garden.
'I wish I could make my pansies grow as evenly,' remarked one lady who was devoted to hers, as she looked enviously round the reading-room to be, that was outlined by a dense border of purple and yellow.