“Atrociously! I could eat the Inche Maida herself.”
“She looked to me as if she could eat you,” said the doctor. “I say, though, Chumbley, that was all nonsense of yours; the Rajah’s as square as a cube. Not half a bad fellow; says he’s coming to consult me about some of his symptoms, and is going to get me to put him right. Precious stupid of you to put such an idea in a fellow’s head.”
“Pitch it out, then,” said the lieutenant, coolly.
“I’ve done it, my boy. I say, Chumbley, I’m like you, precious hungry, too. Look out for the sambals, my boy, and the curry. You’ll get them all in delicious trim, I’ll be bound. They say the Inche Maida keeps a capital cook, and I think it was a splendid idea to bring us here. The dinner will be ten times better than in a boat or on the shore. I say, my dear boy, what a tip-top place! Why, if I were a bachelor, I wouldn’t mind marrying the Inche Maida myself, and succeeding to all her estates.”
“It really is a charming place,” said Chumbley, thoughtfully. “A man might make himself very jolly here. There’s plenty of fishing, and shooting, and—”
“He could learn to chew betel, and smoke opium, and settle down into an Eastern dreamer.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Chumbley, quietly. “He might make himself a sort of example to the people, and do a deal of good.”
“Yes,” said the doctor drily, “or let them do him a lot of harm. Hallo! where are the ladies going?”
“Oh, up to the rooms, I suppose,” said Chumbley. “I expect the Princess does things in style. I wouldn’t bet a sovereign that she has not got a regular dining-room and drawing-room with a Broadwood piano.”
“I don’t care a dump what she has got so long as she has a good cellar and a good kitchen,” replied the doctor, “for I’m ravenous.”