“My darling, you can’t want anything from him!”
“Heaps of things—I shall know as soon as I see what he’s got, dear! To begin with, there’s a lead pencil! So far as I know I haven’t a lead pencil in the world. I’ll take that lead pencil! Soap? No, I think not, thank you. Do tell me what he says, George. Elastic—the very thing I wanted. And tape? Please ask him if he’s got any tape. Tooth-brushes—what do you think, George?”
“Not tooth-brushes!” her lord protested, as one who endures. “They may be second-hand, dear.”
“Oh! No! Here, take them back, please! Ribbon—have you any narrow pale blue? That’s about right, if you’ve nothing better. Hooks and eyes are always useful. So are mixed pins and sewing cotton. I can’t say I think much of these towels, George, they’re very thin—still we shall want towels.”
Mrs. Browne was quite pink with excitement, and her eyes glistened. She became all at once animated and eager, a joy of her sex was upon her, and unexpectedly. The box-wallah was an Event, and an Event is a thing much to be desired, even in one’s honeymoon. This lady had previously and has since made purchases much more interesting and considerably more expensive than those that fell in her way at Patapore; but I doubt whether any of them afforded her a tenth of the satisfaction. She turned over every one of the box-wallah’s commonplaces, trusting to find a need for it. She laid embroidered edging down unwillingly, and put aside handkerchiefs and hosiery with a sigh, pangs of conscience arising from a trousseau just unpacked. But it was astonishing how valuably supplementary that box-wallah’s stores appeared to be. Helen declared, for instance, that she never would have thought of Persian morning slippers, which she has never yet been able to wear, if she had not seen them there, and this I can believe.
The transaction occupied the best part of two hours, during which young Browne behaved very well, smoking quietly, and only interfering once, on the score of some neckties for himself. And when Helen remonstrated that everything seemed to be for her, he begged her to believe that he really didn’t mind—he didn’t feel acquisitive that morning; she mustn’t consider him. To which Helen gave regretful compliance, for the box-wallah had a large stock of gentlemen’s small wares. In the end Mr. Browne paid the box-wallah, in a masterly manner, something over a third of his total demand, which he accepted, to Helen’s astonishment, with only a perfunctory demur, and straight away put his box on his head and departed. About which time young Browne’s bearer came with respectful inquiry as to which train he would pack their joint effects for on the morrow. This is an invariable terminal point for honeymoons in India.
CHAPTER V.
