So much the ladies who had just entered could see; but a moment after they had taken their first illuminating glance round the place they stood with their eyes fixed upon one of the most prominent objects of the place—the bustling figure of the Cachar of Darjeeling in native dress, turban and jewels and all, tying up parcels of tea behind the counter, and testing the coins which the crowd of customers tendered in payment before pulling the bell-ringing drawer of the cash register!
The enterprise of Messrs. Caterham had suggested to them the advertising attraction in the form of a full-robed Oriental at the head of their new tea department. They had promoted one of their old hands—he came from the East End of London—to the post, and having “made up” under the guidance of one of Messrs. Nathan's most highly qualified assistants, Messrs. Caterham were perhaps not going too far when they asserted in their advertisements that the tea trade of Burford would assume an entirely new complexion.
The ladies gazed in horrible fascination upon the impostor—at the moment they were unable to differentiate between an advertisement and an impostor—for nearly a whole minute, and then they turned and walked slowly away without exchanging a word.
Mrs. Paston left Burford the next day, having been ordered by her medical adviser to Buxton. But Major Sowerby picked out his most serviceable Malacca cane, and was heard to declare, while trying its balance in downward strokes from left to right, that he had only to come across that scoundrel who called himself by the honourable title of a loyal Indian potentate in order to teach him a lesson that he would remember so long as he had breath in his body.
The general impression that prevailed throughout Burford, however, so soon as the story of the exclusive ladies and their Indian prince was in full circulation—and it did not take long to pass round the town—was that the incident should teach a lesson to a good many people who take it upon them to lead the red-tiled society of the new town.
But whether they learn any lesson or not, there seems to be a consensus of opinion that the sooner the name of the High Street is changed to Prince's Parade the better it will be for the town, Messrs. Caterham, and, incidentally, Mr. Isaac Moss, professionally known as the Cachar of Darjeeling. (As a matter of fact, there are already several people not belonging to the governing classes who, ever since the episode just recorded, have invariably alluded to the lower part of the High Street—that part which has been annexed by Messrs. Caterham—as the Prince's Parade.)