CHAPTER XVII.
Hester awaited her husband's return home with some uneasiness. She wondered how he would receive the disclosure that the day at Ennore was an accomplished fact. Being neither secretive nor wanting in courage, she would have much preferred to have explained previous to the expedition that she had felt obliged to negotiate about the carriages, and had already paid for their hire. She was therefore pleasantly taken by surprise on the morning after Mr. Rayner's return, when they sat together at early tea under the shade of the banyan tree, when he suddenly turned to her with a penitent air, saying:
"Look here, Hester, I behaved abominably about the hire of those bandies for your protégées. Forgive my hasty temper, sweet wife, and as a proof of your full forgiveness accept this." He stooped down to kiss her and laid a crisp note in her hand.
"A hundred rupees! Oh, Alfred, but that's a fortune—much more than the cost of the carriages! You remember the hire was only to be seventy-five rupees—and they're paid. Even the bill has been filed. The first on the little file mother slipped into the netting of my portmanteau! 'The only way to keep accounts straight is to use these,' she said. And it does give one a sense of satisfaction when one slips the bill into the file 'Paid!'"
"Oh, well, as to that, there's no sense in wishing to pay one's bills before they're a day old—that doesn't pay, in fact! Tradesmen reckon on their bills clinging to the file 'unpaid' for some time, and charge accordingly. But as far as the present trifle is concerned it doesn't matter. As to the surplus—the extra twenty-five rupees—keep them for chiffons, my dear!"
"I know well what I want to do with every anna of my treasure trove! You haven't asked how I came to have money to pay for the carriages, Alfred! It was really the remains of a little store of sovereigns in my dressing-case; I've been hoarding it for Christmas presents to send home, and now, like the story of the widow's cruise of oil, it has multiplied. I shall be able to send for those alluring hawkers. I've always tried to turn away my eyes from beholding their wares when they spread them out on the verandah, conscious that I wasn't an intending customer."
"Oh, but you needn't be so sensitive! They don't in the least mind as long as they are allowed to spread them on the verandah. But if you really want the hawkers you'd better give orders to Veeraswamy to summon the crew and have a bargaining. Mind, about half they ask is the real value of the article. I expect you'll get dreadfully imposed on."
"I hope not, for I'm anxious to get the worth of every rupee. There are so many to send to. I must find something for father, though that won't be so easy. About mother, I'll have no difficulty. But, Alfred, is there nobody you want to send a Christmas-box to in the homeland?" asked Hester, with kind eyes resting on her husband.
"Oh, no doubt there are sundry who would accept one with pleasure. But you know, I'm a relationless being, Hester. Now that Aunt Flo is gone, there isn't a soul belonging to me. It's better than having undesirable relatives, isn't it? What a horror that would be, to be sure! But I'm glad you've thought of the Rectory people. I owe them heaps, Hester, for having allowed me to carry off the only daughter of the house—and such a daughter! And you're having a good time, are you not, dearest? Young Stapleton was just remarking the other day at the Club that you were the prettiest and most popular bride of the season. I'm so glad you're such a glorious success," he added, taking her hand caressingly, and raising it to his lips. "I'm going to write to your mother one day soon, and tell her how well her transplanted English rose is doing here!"