An hour later Helen flew in from the veranda. “Oh, George, I’ve seen them: two men and a lady and a black and white dog—spotted! Quite nice, respectable-looking people, all of them! They walked past our veranda.”
“Confound their impudence! Did they look in?”
“The dog did.”
“None of the rest? Well, dear, which way did they go?”
Helen indicated a south-easterly direction, and the Brownes that evening walked almost directly north, with perhaps a point or two to the west, and did not return until it was quite dark.
The fourth day after breakfast, a stranger entered the veranda without invitation. He was clad chiefly in a turban and loin cloth, and on his head he bore a large tin box. He had an attendant, much like him, but wearing a dirtier loin-cloth, and bearing a bigger box.
“Oh! who is it?” Helen cried.
“It’s one of those wretched box-wallahs, dear—a kind of pedlar. I’ll send him off. Hujao,[[9]] you!”
[9]. Be off!
“Oh, no, George! Let us see what he has to sell,” Helen interposed with interest; and immediately the man was on the floor untying his cords.