“And then?” asked Penelope breathlessly.
“And then—you know the old saying in Eastern Europe, ‘The grass never grows where the Turk’s hoof has trod’? Here it shall be, ‘Where the Englishman’s hoof has trod, the grass grows doubly green.’ Down by the river they called all this part Yagistan, you know—the country of the wild men,” he explained for Penelope’s benefit, “but now the name has retreated over the frontier. That’s not enough, though. We have the district before us like a blank sheet—a sea of sand, without cultivation or trade, and precious little of either to hope for from the inhabitants. What is our business? To cover that blank sheet. Canals, then cultivation; roads, then travel; fairs, then trade. The thing will be an object-lesson all the way into Central Asia. Only give me the time, and it shall be done. I have the men and the free hand, and——” He broke off suddenly, and laughed with some embarrassment. “No wonder you are all looking at me as if you thought me mad,” he said; “I seem to have been forcing my personal aspirations on you in the most unwarranted way. But as I have burdened you with such a rodomontade, I can’t well do less than ask whether any one has any suggestions that would help in making it a reality.”
“I have,” said Lady Haigh promptly. “If you want the natives to think we mean to stay here, Major Keeling, we ought to have a club, and public gardens.”
“So we ought, and it struck me only to-day that this old fort might serve as a club-house when your house is built, Lady Haigh, and you turn out of it. I won’t have it used for anything remotely connected with defence or administration, but to turn it over to the station as a place of amusement ought to produce an excellent effect. But as to the gardens——”
“Why, that space in front!” cried Lady Haigh. “Turn those gipsies off, and you have the very place, with the club on this side, and the church and your new house and all the government buildings opposite.”
“Excellent!” said Major Keeling. “The gipsies have already had notice to quit, and a new camping-ground appointed them, but I meant to use the space for godowns until my plans were thrown out. Really I begin to think I made a mistake in not welcoming ladies up here. Their advice seems likely to be distinctly useful.”
“What an admission!” said Lady Haigh, with exaggerated gratitude. “But don’t be deceived by Major Keeling’s flattery, Pen. Very soon you’ll find that he has set a trap to see whether you have any natural feelings.”
“How could I subject another lady to such a test when you have objected so strongly, pray? Miss Ross need fear nothing at my hands.”
“Well, I call that most unfair. Come, Pen. Why!”—Lady Haigh broke off with a little laugh—“we have no drawing-room in which to give you gentlemen tea.”
“Have you visited the ramparts yet?” asked Major Keeling. “You will find them a pleasant place in the evenings, and even in the daytime there will sometimes be shade and a breeze there. I had one of the tower staircases cleaned and made safe for your benefit, and if you will honour me by considering the ramparts as your drawing-room this evening, the servants shall bring the tea there.”