It was ten a.m.—more or less. Lucy had risen, washed hurriedly, and hurriedly put on the only clean cotton dress left to her. (She really must go out one day and buy some things for the voyage—only where was the money?) The door was thrown open by an excited, more amiable Halima, who shouted "Yupo Bibi Balosi! Anakuita!"
A pleasant, high-bred voice explained:
"I am looking for Mrs. Baines. Is she in here?"
Lucy scrambled off the bed from under the mosquito curtain and stood before Lady Dewburn, the Consul-General's wife....
Broken apologies ... explanations—"Bed only place where you could be tolerably free from mosquitoes...."
Lady Dewburn is a handsome shrewd-looking woman of middle age. She wears a single eyeglass at times, for greater precision of sight, and because she is the daughter of a permanent official. But though she inspires a certain awe, she is in reality a kind creature, irresistibly impelled to interfere—she hopes for the best—in other people's affairs, especially out here. Her children are either out in the world or at school in England, and she is exceedingly bored on this feverishly tropical, gloriously squalid island. The day before she had heard all about Lucy from Captain Brentham....
Lady Dewburn: "My poor child! Please overlook all formalities and come away with me, just as you are. Your woman here—if you can trust her—shall pack up what you have—you can't have much, I should think, after that appalling journey to the coast.... Come away with me.... Why, you must have hardly any clothes to wear! I don't wonder you stop in bed! We've got lots of spare rooms—as a matter of fact, Sir Godfrey and I are alone just now. Come and stay with us till you can look round and make your plans. It seems to me as though I ought to put you to bed for a week to begin with...."
Lucy's acceptance of this Fairy Godmother proposal dissolved from words into gulping sobs and convulsive eye-dabbings and nose-blowing. But she was practical enough to find her sola topi and white umbrella, to make her cotton dress look a little tidier, and gasp a few directions in Swahili to the over-awed Halima. Halima was wearing Lucy's evening "fichu" all the time and was uneasily conscious of having blundered into felony through ill-timed contempt for her lady.
Lucy observed none of this, but followed Lady Dewburn's fastidious steps down the stairs of palm planks out into the yard, where Mr. Callaway—really a very decent sort, who after all had done his best for Lucy—was awaiting them. He was personally gratified and relieved in his mind that the first lady in Unguja should have taken his forlorn little client under her wing. After picking their way with skirts lifted high through narrow unsavoury lanes between high blank houses, they at last reached Unguja's one broad highway. Here was a handsomely appointed carriage, and in it they rolled away to the Agency.
CHAPTER XIV