Among the various low-necked ladies Helen was pleased to recognise Mrs. Wodenhamer. The presence of Mrs. Wodenhamer at a dinner given even participially, by Mr. Sayter, indicates as well as anything the inalienable privileges connected with the wife of a Commissariat Colonel; but that is by the way. It is perhaps enough to say that the other ladies were various, one or two young and rather flippant, one or two middle-aged and rather fat, verging toward Mrs. Wodenhamer; all very agreeably dressed, except Mrs. Wodenhamer, who wore crimson and black; all extremely self-possessed, all disposed to be easily conversational. I might itemize their husbands standing about in degrees of eminence and worldly plethora fairly proportioned to their waistbands, and sharing the proud consciousness of having contributed a wife to the occasion. I ought to mention also Mr. Cran and Mr. Peckle, though I need not dwell on Mr. Cran’s bearded baldness, or Mr. Peckle’s rosy expansiveness, as it is quite unlikely that you will have occasion to recognise them out of their own house. They followed Mr. Sayter down stairs with Mrs. Wodenhamer and the lady who most resembled her, when the sound of the gong came up. Helen, as the bride of the occasion, went down on Mr. Sayter’s arm.
MR. SAYTER GAVE MRS. BROWNE HIS ARM.
“Well, Mrs. Browne,” said Mr. Sayter presently, giving her an amiable glance from his soup, “what do you think of us? Now I know what you’re going to say,” he continued, holding up a bit of crust in a warning manner. “You’re going to say that you haven’t been here long enough to form an opinion, or words to that effect. I’m perfectly right, ain’t I?”
Helen admitted that her answer might have been “something like that.”
“But you don’t mean it, you know. Really and truly, if you think a minute, you’ll find you don’t mean it. You’ve got a lovely opinion of us, all ready for use, in this last month. And very proper too. The very first thing everybody does here is to form an opinion of Anglo-Indians. It can’t be postponed, it’s involuntary. Besides, it’s a duty. We appeal to the moral side. We call out, as it were, for condemnation. Isn’t that so, Wodenhamer?”
“Isn’t what so?” said that gentleman. “Certainly. Na! peg do,”[[79]] to the kitmutgar who wanted to give him champagne.
[79]. Whisky and soda.
“You should have been listening. I decline to begin again. I was trying to convince Mrs. Browne that India is the only country in the world where people can be properly applied to for their impressions before they leave the ship—the way they do in America with travellers of distinction. But there’s no use asking Wodenhamer. He’s never been to America, and when he does travel he goes incog. to avoid these things.”
Colonel Wodenhamer’s mutton-chop whiskers expanded in recognition of the joke, “People know it when you travel,” he said.