"Oah, yess. Come and be presented to Meester and Meesers
Garsling-Green," waddling after him.
Mr. Cornelius Gosling-Green, M.P., proved to be a tall, drooping, melancholy creature, with "Dundreary" whiskers, reach-me-down suit of thick cloth, wrong kind of tie, thickish boots, and no presence. Without "form" and void.
Mrs. Cornelius Gosling-Green was a Severe Person, tiny, hard-featured and even more garrulous than her husband, who watched her anxiously and nervously as he answered any question put in her presence….
"And, oh, why, why are not you Mohammedans loyal?" said Mrs. Cornelius Gosling-Green, to a magnificent-looking specimen of the Mussulman of the old school—stately, venerable, courteous and honourable—who stood near, looking as though he wondered what the devil he was doing in that galley.
Turning from his friend, Mir Ilderim Dost Mahommed Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan, a fine Pathan, "Loyal, Madam! Loyal! Believe me we Mohammedans are most intensely and devotedly loyal," he replied. "You have indeed been misled. Though you are only spending a month in India for collecting the materials for your book or pamphlet, you must really learn that much. We Mohammedans are as loyal as the English themselves.—More loyal than some in fact," he added, with intent. The Pathan smiled meaningly.
"Ah, that's just it. I mean 'Why aren't you Mohammedans loyal to poor
India?'"
The man turned and left the marquee and the garden without another word.
"Poor bleeding India," corrected the Professor.
"And are you a friend and worker for India?" continued the lady, turning to him and eyeing him with severity.
"I am. I do my humble possible in my obscure capacity, Mrs.
Grisly-Gosling," he replied. "I beg your pardon, Mrs.
Grossly-Grin——that is—er—Gosling-Green, I should say."