STREET SCENE IN CALCUTTA.
The boys laughed at the oddity of the situation, and then followed the Doctor's example, and each chose a man. An order was then written for the baggage, and the servants went to the steamer to get it; while they were absent the boys took a short stroll along the street, having first inquired the way to the post-office, so that they could get the letters that were expected. At the same time the Doctor engaged a garry, and went to the consulate on a similar errand; the three returned to the hotel at pretty nearly the same time, and their united parcels of letters were a welcome sight.
The whole party was busy with its messages from home till near the hour for dinner. Everybody was well, and everybody had read with great satisfaction what the boys had written about their journey in the Far East. Each mail from Asia was eagerly watched for; and if a steamer happened to arrive without any letter from Frank or Fred there was great disappointment. Mary and Miss Effie declared they had never known a tenth part as much about the countries on the underside of the world as they had learned from the letters of the boys, and Miss Effie intimated to Frank that the knowledge she had acquired had been a partial consolation for his absence; and she naïvely added that her mind was about as full as it could hold of what is to be seen in strange countries, and the sooner he came home the more gratified should she be. Mary had something to say about cashmere shawls, paintings on ivory, sandal-wood carvings, and other things that come from India; and she hinted that she should not be displeased if he sent or brought some of those curiosities to America. She closed her letter with the announcement that Miss Effie was looking over her shoulder and reading every word, and in all probability approving it.
After this there could be no doubt that Frank would be on the search for Indian manufactures in order to afford delight to his sister and sweetheart. He would have a double pleasure in doing so, as he would add to his own stock of knowledge while carrying out the wishes of the bright-eyed girls.
They retired to their rooms to dress for dinner, as their baggage had arrived from the steamer and was ready for them. When they went to the dining-room the servants of the Doctor and Fred were there, but the attendant of Frank was missing, and the others did not know what had become of him. Consequently, Frank was waited upon by one of the other servants, much to his dissatisfaction: he said he had never waited on more than one person at a time, and it was the custom in India for each servant to take care of no one but his master.
After dinner Frank hunted up his attendant, and demanded an explanation of his absence from the dinner-table. With some difficulty Frank drew from him the information that he belonged to a caste that did not wait at table, but only performed work about the rooms. The case was reported to the manager of the hotel, who suggested the employment of two servants, one for the room and one for the table, and the division between them of the half-rupee per day. After some discussion the proposal was accepted, and Master Frank had two servants all to himself. He thought he would have too much attention, but discovered in practice that he was about as badly served as he had been at any time during the journey; he made a careful mathematical calculation, and determined that with half a dozen servants like those about him he would have been obliged to wait upon himself altogether.
"You see," said the Doctor, "how this superabundance of servants in India works; we were talking about it a few days ago, and I suggested you had better wait till we got farther into India before discussing the question. Each person in the dining-room has a servant to himself, and theoretically they ought to care for us very promptly; the fact is they are constantly in each other's way, and nearly everything is cold before it reaches us. The service in the dining-room of the Great Eastern Hotel is abominable, and a large part of its poor character is due to the great number of servants; a hotel in Now York, where there is one servant to six or eight patrons, would do far better than this.