"Oh, that would never do for mother," said Hester, at once rejecting the handsome embroidery. "She would never forgive the immorality of it, for one thing!"
"Well, my dear, what you must do in future is to order the cloth from home and give it to a faithful man to embroider."
"Ah, here comes my friend, Yacoob!" exclaimed Hester, as there appeared a little, refined-looking old man with delicate features, large well-set eyes, and a sweet sensitive face.
"Oh, yes, I've heard of Yacoob," said Mrs. Fellowes. "I believe he is the most beautiful embroiderer in Madras, and the most honest," she whispered, but not so low that it did not catch the quick ear of Ismail, who looked furious as Yacoob stood smilingly salaaming to the ladies.
Yacoob was far from being a rich man like Ismail, and had carried his own goods unaided, save by a slender boy, his grandson. Veeraswamy had, of course, hurried to Triplicane to summon the good little hawker, whom he found sitting cross-legged in his pandal, sewing exquisite embroidery on the finest of white muslin, surrounded by several generations of his family, the youngest members being dusky babies crawling about the carpet on which he sat; yet no spot or stain ever reached Yacoob's needlework.
On hearing of the mem-sahib's summons he bundled his sewing into a green silk kerchief which looked none of the cleanest, but which must have been in some occult way warranted not to contaminate Yacoob's precious art.
He looked sad and pathetic as he caught sight of Ismail's jealous frown. It was evident his sensitive nature shrank from the rough rivalry of his class. With feeble fingers he began to untie his parcel of goods when Hester said:
"Come, Yacoob, my heart is set on having one of your beautiful beetle-wing dresses. I want it for my cousin," she added, turning to Mrs. Fellowes, "I think she would like one done on black best."
"Salaams, mem-sahib, but I only have the best shining beetle-wings," said Ismail, making a cringing progress towards Hester as he held up yards of net embroidered with iridescent beetle-wings.
"Now, let's examine this!" said Mrs. Fellowes. "Since you want a dress, the net must, at least, be new! This is lovely work, Ismail, but what about the net! It isn't black, it's the colour of dusty spider's web! Let me see one of yours, Yacoob."