MISS T. (_Who has been watching the moustache with awed fascination_.)
Won't you have some eggs?
CAPT. G. (_Looking bewilderedly at the tea-table_.) Eggs! (_A side_.)
O Hades! She must have a nursery-tea at this hour. S'pose they've wiped
her mouth and sent her to me while the Mother is getting on her duds.
(_Aloud_.) No, thanks.
MISS T. (_Crimson with confusion_.) Oh! I didn't mean that. I wasn't
thinking of mou--eggs for an instant. I mean _salt_. Won't you have some
sa--- sweets? (_Aside_.) He'll think me a raving lunatic. I wish Mamma
would come.
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) It _was_ a nursery-tea and she's ashamed of it. By
Jove! She doesn't look half bad when she colours up like that. (_Aloud,
helping himself from the dish_.) Have you seen those new chocolates at
Peliti's?
MISS T. No, I made these myself. What are they like?
CAPT. G. These! _De_-licious. (_Aside_.) And that's a fact.
MISS T. (_Aside_.) Oh, bother! he'll think I'm fishing for compliments.
(_Aloud_.) No, Peliti's of course.
CAPT. G. (_Enthusiastically_.) Not to compare with these. How d'you make
them? I can't get my _khansamah_ to understand the simplest thing beyond
mutton and fowl.
MISS T. Yes? I'm not a _khansamah_, you know. Perhaps you frighten him.
You should never frighten a servant. He loses his head. It's very bad
policy.
CAPT. G. He's so awf'ly stupid.
MISS T. (_Folding her hands in her lap_.) You should call him quietly
and say: 'O _khansamah jee!_'
CAPT. G. (_Getting interested_.) Yes? (_Aside_.) Fancy that little
featherweight saying, 'O _khansamah jee_' to my bloodthirsty Mir Khan!
MISS T. Then you should explain the dinner, dish by dish.
CAPT. G. But I can't speak the vernacular.
MISS T. (_Patronizingly_.) You should pass the Higher Standard and try.
CAPT. G. I have, but I don't seem to be any the wiser. Are you?
MISS T. I never passed the Higher Standard. But the _khansamah_ is
very patient with me. He doesn't get angry when I talk about sheep's
_topees_, or order _maunds_ of grain when I mean _seers_.
CAPT. G. (_Aside, with intense indignation_.) I'd like to see Mir Khan
being rude to that girl! Hullo! Steady the Buffs! (_Aloud_.) And do you
understand about horses, too?
MISS T. A little--not very much. I can't doctor them, but I know what
they ought to eat, and I am in charge of our stable.
CAPT. G. Indeed! You might help me then. What ought a man to give his
_sais_ in the Hills? My ruffian says eight rupees, because everything is
so dear.
MISS T. Six rupees a month, and one rupee Simla allowance--neither more
nor less. And a grass-cut gets six rupees. That's better than buying
grass in the bazar.
CAPT. G. (_Admiringly_.) How do you know?
MISS T. I have tried both ways.
CAPT. G. Do you ride much, then? I've never seen you on the Mall.
MISS T. (_Aside_.) I haven't passed him _more_ than fifty times.
(_Aloud_.) Nearly every day.
CAPT. G. By Jove! I didn't know that. Ha-Hmmm! (_Pulls at his moustache
and is silent for forty seconds_.)
MISS T. (_Desperately, and wondering what will happen next._) It looks
beautiful. I shouldn't touch it if I were you. (_Aside_.) It's all
Mamma's fault for not coming before. I _will_ be rude!
CAPT. G. (_Bronzing under the tan and bringing down his hand very
quickly_.) Eh! Wha-at! Oh, yes! Ha! Ha! (_Laughs uneasily_.) (_Aside_.)
Well, of _all_ the dashed cheek! I never had a woman say that to me yet.
She must be a cool hand or else--Ah! that nursery-tea!
VOICE FROM THE UNKNOWN. Tchk! Tchk! Tchk!
CAPT. G. Good Gracious! What's that?
MISS T. The dog, I think. (_Aside_.) Emma _has_ been listening, and I'll
never forgive her!
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) They don't keep dogs here. (_Aloud_.) Didn't sound
like a dog, did it?
MISS T. Then it must have been the cat. Let's go into the veranda. What
a lovely evening it is!
_Steps into veranda and looks out across the hills into sunset. The
Captain follows._
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) Superb eyes! I wonder that I never noticed them
before! (_Aloud_.) There's going to be a dance at Viceregal Lodge on
Wednesday. Can you spare me one?
MISS T. (_Shortly_.) No! I don't want any of your charity-dances. You
only ask me because Mamma told you to. I hop and I bump. You _know_ I
do!
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) That's true, but little girls shouldn't understand
these things. (_Aloud_.) _No_, on my word, I don't. You dance
beautifully.
MISS T. Then why do you always stand out after half a dozen turns? I
thought officers in the Army didn't tell fibs.
CAPT. G. It wasn't a fib, believe me. I really _do_ want the pleasure of
a dance with you.
MISS T. (_Wickedly_.) Why? Won't Mamma dance with you any more?
CAPT. G. (_More earnestly than the necessity demands_.) I wasn't
thinking of your Mother. (_Aside_.) You little vixen!
MISS T. (_Still looking out of the window_.) Eh? Oh, I beg your pardon.
I was thinking of something else.
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) Well! I wonder what she'll say next. I've never
known a woman treat _me_ like this before. I might be--Dash it, I might
be an Infantry subaltern! (_Aloud_.) Oh, _please_ don't trouble. I'm not
worth thinking about. Isn't your Mother ready yet?
MISS T. I should think so; but promise me, Captain Gadsby, you won't
take poor dear Mamma twice round Jakko any more. It tires her so.
CAPT. G. She says that no exercise tires her.
MISS T. Yes, but she suffers afterwards. _You_ don't know what
rheumatism is, and you oughtn't to keep her out so late, when it gets
chill in the evenings.
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) Rheumatism! I _thought_ she came off her horse
rather in a bunch. Whew! One lives and learns. (_Aloud_.) I'm sorry to
hear that. She hasn't mentioned it to me.
MISS T. (_Flurried_.) Of course not! Poor dear Mamma never would. And
you mustn't say that I told you either. Promise me that you won't. Oh,
Captain Gadsby, _promise_ me you won't!
CAPT. G. I am dumb, or--I shall be as soon as you've given me that
dance, and another--if you can trouble yourself to think about me for a
minute.
MISS T. But you won't like it one little bit. You'll be awfully sorry
afterwards.
CAPT. G. I shall like it above all things, and I shall only be sorry
that I didn't get more. (_Aside_.) Now what in the world am I saying?
MISS T. Very well. You will have only yourself to thank if your toes are
trodden on. Shall we say Seven?
CAPT. G. And Eleven. (_Aside_.) She can't be more than eight stone,
but, even then, it's an absurdly small foot. (_Looks at his own riding
boots_.)
MISS T. They're beautifully shiny. I can almost see my face in them.
CAPT. G. I was thinking whether I should have to go on crutches for the
rest of my life if you trod on my toes.
MISS T. Very likely. Why not change Eleven for a square?
CAPT. G. No, _please!_ I want them both waltzes. Won't you write them
down?
MISS T. _I_ don't get so many dances that I shall confuse them. _You_
will be the offender.
CAPT. G. Wait and see! (_Aside_.) She doesn't dance perfectly, perhaps,
but--
MISS T. Your tea must have got cold by this time. Won't you have another
cup?
CAPT. G. No, thanks. Don't you think it's pleasanter out in the veranda?
(_Aside_.) I never saw hair take that colour in the sunshine before.
(_Aloud_.) It's like one of Dicksee's pictures.
MISS T. Yes! It's a wonderful sunset, isn't it? (_Bluntly_.) But what do
_you_ know about Dicksee's pictures?
CAPT. G. I go Home occasionally. And I used to know the Galleries.
(_Nervously_.) You mustn't think me only a Philistine with--a moustache.
MISS T. Don't! _Please_ don't! I'm _so_ sorry for what I said then. I
was _horribly_ rude. It slipped out before I thought. Don't you know the
temptation to say frightful and shocking things just for the mere sake
of saying them? I'm afraid I gave way to it.
CAPT. G. (_Watching the girl as she flushes_.) I _think_ I know the
feeling. It would be terrible if we all yielded to it, wouldn't it? For
instance, I might say--
POOR DEAR MAMMA. (_Entering, habited, hatted, and booted_.) Ah, Captain
Gadsby! 'Sorry to keep you waiting. 'Hope you haven't been bored. 'My
little girl been talking to you?
MISS T. (_Aside_.) I'm not sorry I spoke about the rheumatism. I'm not!
I'm NOT! I only wish I'd mentioned the corns too.
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) What a shame! I wonder how old she is. It never
occurred to me before. (_Aloud_.) We've been discussing 'Shakespeare and
the musical glasses' in the veranda.
MISS T. (_Aside._) Nice man! He knows that quotation. He _isn't_ a
Philistine with a moustache. (_Aloud._) Good-bye, Captain Gadsby.
(_Aside._) What a huge hand and _what_ a squeeze! I don't suppose he
meant it, but he has driven the rings into my fingers.
POOR DEAR MAMMA. Has Vermillion come round yet? Oh, yes! Captain Gadsby,
don't you think that the saddle is too far forward? (_They pass into the
front veranda._)
CAPT. G. (_Aside._) How the dickens should I know what she prefers? She
told me that she doted on horses. (_Aloud._) I think it is.
MISS T. (_Coming out into front veranda._) Oh! Bad Buldoo! I must speak
to him for this. He has taken up the curb two links, and Vermillion
hates that. (_Passes out and to horse's head._)
CAPT. G. Let me do it.
MISS T. No, Vermillion understands me. Don't you, old man? (_Looses
curb-chain skilfully, and pats horse on nose and throttle._) Poor
Vermillion! _Did_ they want to cut his chin off? There!