“Glad to see you here, Mrs. Paston,” cried the Major heartily. “Yes, I maintain that it is our duty to welcome—to stretch out a right hand of greeting to the natives of our great Dependency—one Empire—one Flag—hands across the sea—that's what I have always advocated. I am wondering if he couldn't do something for my Teddy here. I believe these rajahs and memsahibs and cachars have got no end of money—rupees—the old Pagoda tree and that. Teddy can turn his hand to anything.”
The expression of his excellent patriotic sentiments was interrupted by the arrival of nearly all the members of the Committee of inquiry, and a card-case was in the hand of every one of them, and other ladies of the élite were hurrying down the street, plainly making the restaurant their objective. Within a quarter of an hour a whole salver of cards had been taken charge of by the young lady, some of them bearing a few pencilled words: “Hoping to be honoured by a visit,” “At home every day this week at 4,” “Trusting to obtain permission to receive H.H. the Cachar,” and the like. Mrs. Lake had written on hers, “Sister of Mr. George Barnes, Woods and Forests Dept.,” and Major Sowerby had put in parenthesis under his son's name, “Ellison prizeman at Routilla College, Eastbourne.”
The next day the Prince appeared once again promenading the High Street. He was a man of fine presence, of a rich ruddy brown complexion and a black beard and moustache, and his turban was a sight! It contained a central diamond little inferior in size to the Koh-i-noor, and on each side of it was a pigeon's egg ruby—a lady who saw it called it a pigeon's blood ruby lest there should be any mistake: a casual glance of some one who did not know all about these great jewels might convey the impression that it was only a bantam's blood ruby, which was quite an inferior stone. He had an air of distinction which caused him to be greatly admired, and yet he was so devoid of any foolish pride that he did not hesitate to chat quite pleasantly to one of the young ladies in Caterham's. (Mrs! Paston, hearing this, expressed the hope that the young lady would be very careful. But Major Sowerby, when it reached his ears, said he hoped the Prince would be careful. Mrs. Markham said nothing, but glanced hopefully at her daughter.)
All the ladies remained under their rosy tiles that afternoon, and all the maids were supplied with the whitest of caps and aprons. Tea was delayed in every house for three-quarters of an hour: there was no knowing what might happen. But nothing happened. The Cachar of Darjeeling was clearly feeling the embarrassment of having to respond to a welcome offered in such plurality; though Mrs. Paston thought that surely one of the young ladies in Caterham's would have told him to whom he should give precedence in making his calls. Every other lady was of the same opinion.
Mrs. Paston thought it but right that she should give the Prince some encouragement, so she wrote a little note to him inviting his confidence as to his plans, and hoping that he might be able to lunch with her the next day, when she would have great pleasure in driving him to Lady Collingby's annual Flower Show. Four other ladies addressed notes to him expressing precisely the same sentiments, and all set out to deliver them at Caterham's with their own hands, to save the delay of a post.
They entered Caterham's almost simultaneously, without noticing that the hoarding which had been built about the next door premises while a plate-glass front of noble design was being set in its place had been removed. And when they inquired for the Cachar, the young lady said—“He is in the new shop—you go through the arch on the left.”
There was a Norman arch of lath and plaster enriched by insets of highly decorated Lincrusta—the paper-hangmen had just left it—in the partition wall; through it the ladies went and found themselves in a spacious shop with a profusion of cheap specimens of Oriental china on lacquer brackets about the walls, and an all-pervading smell of freshly roasted coffee. It was clearly the newly acquired premises of the enterprising Messrs. Caterham, which they meant to run as a shop for the sale of Indian tea and West Indian coffee—the “Old Flag” was their trade-mark—and a brisk sale of half-pound and quarter-pound packets was going on at the counter.