It was a small mahogany dining table, second-hand, and its owner wanted twenty rupees for it.
“I think,” said young Browne, “that the memsahib might give you fourteen!”
The usual humbly sarcastic salaam—it was a very excellent table—the baboo could not think of parting with it for that.
“All right!” said Mr. Browne, “the memsahib says she won’t give more than fourteen, and that’s very dear. But I’ll make you one offer—just one, mind, baboo! I’ll give you fifteen. Now take it or leave it—one word!”
The baboo salaamed so that his beard swept the ground, and fervently refused.
“Very well, baboo! Now I don’t want it at any price, see if you can bargain with the memsahib.”
“Eighteen rupees, memsahib!” insinuated the old fellow, “very cheap.”
“No, indeed!” Helen exclaimed with indignation, rising to the occasion, “I won’t give you any more than fourteen.”
“Chowdrah rupia, memsahib—fo-teen rupee! But the sahib he offer fifteen!”
“Oh, I don’t want it at all now,” said the sahib, who stood in the door with his back turned and whistled. “Now you must bargain with the memsahib.”