“That is capital,” said Lord William; “what is the name of the book and who is it by, I mean who wrote it?”
“Oh, I don’t know that,” replied his little friend, looking rather dismayed, “I think it is called Infernal Hope, but I don’t know who wrote it.”
“Never mind, little man, I will soon find out, don’t worry, it is a funny name, but I will soon get it for you. If I write to a man I know who keeps a big book shop, he will be sure to know and send it at once.”
Lord William made a point of finding out from another member of the family what the book was without giving away his little friend’s secret. It was Archdeacon Farrer’s Eternal Hope, and it arrived duly in a beautiful cover in time to give pleasure to both the little invalid and his mother.
Some years after this, when I was giving a children’s party at home in England, Lord Bill asked, “May this child come, please?” Of course I replied I should be charmed, and certainly the children were; I never saw bairns enjoy themselves more. He pretended he was an elephant at the Zoo, and allowed them to sit all over him while he travelled about on all fours giving them rides, then pretending to fall down and roll with them. When he thought they were tired of this he crawled under the table in the dining-room and pretended he was a bear in a cage, and had to be fed by the children through the bars formed by the legs of the chairs arranged around him.
After the last happy child had gone home, Lord William and my youngest brother, who had likewise been assisting, feeling rather limp and exhausted, suggested they would like a wash and brush up. After this operation both were due at opposite ends of London; it was pouring with rain, and there seemed to be a scarcity of cabs. The servants whistled until they were nearly black in the face, as my brother expressed it; at last they succeeded in attracting the attention of one hansom; then each man was too polite to take the cab from the other, and as they were going in opposite directions they could not share it. My brother told Lord William to jump in and he would find one for himself, or wait with me until another arrived.
Lord William would not agree to this, and told my brother to jump in. It ended in their struggling fiercely in the street, each trying to put the other into the cab. The cabby at first looked on in awe and wonderment; he was anxious to keep the cab dry, and each time one of the strugglers was nearly deposited in the cab, up would go the glass, then as they subsided for a fresh effort on the pavement down went the glass again, as the cabby saw all was not decided. He was now entering into the spirit of the game, and settled down to watch and be ready to receive the missile when it eventually arrived.
By this time another cab had turned up, but nobody took the least notice of it. A small crowd of wet errand boys had collected to watch the fun, and I was momentarily expecting a policeman to appear on the scenes and take them both into custody.
At last Lord William won the day, and from behind the curtains in the dining-room window I saw my bruised and shin-barked brother chucked into the cab while in response to the cabman’s “Where to?” Lord William replied, “Home for lost dogs, and drive like the devil.” Needless to say neither my brother nor Lord William looked like paying visits after this romp; their hats had been knocked off and clapped on again by the servants, and small boys looking on, only to roll off once more. Ties had waltzed round, and were looking out from unaccustomed places, collars looked shy and drooping; but I am flying too far ahead; and the Simla Gymkhanas require and deserve a little space before passing on.