[55]. Makes crying.
[56]. Not good.
“Oh na, ayah! Baba atcha hai,” laughed Helen, defending the sacredest theory of her sex.
Chua took an attitude of self-effacement, but her reply had a patronising dignity, “Memsahib kawasti baba atcha hai,” said she. “Memsahib kawasti kooch kam hai na! Ayah ka kam hai! Tub baba atcha na—kooch na muncta!”[[57]]
[57]. For the memsahib babies are good. The memsahib has no work to do. The ayah has work. Then babies are not good, she does not want any!
Chua occupied quite the modern ground, which was exhilarating in an Oriental, and doubtless testified to the march of truth—that babies were only practicable and advisable when their possible mothers could find nothing better to do. Helen was impressed, and more deeply so when she presently discovered that Chua and Abdul, her husband, lived in different houses in the bustee I have mentioned—different huts, that is, mud-baked and red-tiled and leaking, and offering equal facilities for the intrusion of the ubiquitous goat. Chua spoke of Abdul with an angry flash of contempt. In accommodating himself to circumstances recently, Abdul had offended her very deeply. It was on an occasion when Chua had accompanied a memsahib to England with the usual infant charge. She was very sick, she earned a hundred and fifty rupees, she was away three months—“kali tin mahina,[[58]] memsahib!” and when she returned she found Abdul mated to another. She was artful, was Chua—her mistress’s face expressed such a degree of disapprobation that she fancied herself implicated, and instantly laughed to throw a triviality over Abdul’s misconduct. It was a girl he married, a mere child “baba kamafik,[[59]] memsahib”—fourteen years old. But her scorn came through the mask of her amusement when she went on to state that the house of Abdul was no longer without its olive branch, but that Abdul’s sahib had gone away and there was very little rice for anybody in that family. The recreant had come to her in his extremity, asking alms, she said with her curled lip. “Rupia do-o!”[[60]] she whined, holding out her hand and imitating his suppliance with intensest irony. Then drawing herself up proudly she rehearsed her answer brief, contemptuous, and to the point.
[58]. Only three months.
[59]. Like a baby.
[60]. Ten rupees.
“Daga na!—Jao!”[[61]]