"Yes, I have _poudre de riz_ and every kind of thing made by Rimmel and
Piver and Guerlain. My sister-in-law wrote me that these things were
hard to get here, so I brought bags full."
An electric wave of enthusiasm passed round the room, and for a moment
Judy looked almost rapturous, until I added, "They are all with my
luggage, which is coming up by waggon."
"What!" cried Mrs Skeffington-Smythe. Miss Cleeve bit her lips, and
Mrs Valetta, looking wickeder than ever, closed her eyes apparently for
ever. Mrs Brand was the only one who remained unmoved, but it was
clear that her tanned face and a powder-puff had never made
acquaintance. Judy gave a little cold laugh.
"It might have been just as well to stuff a box of _poudre de riz in_
your pocket."
"Dear Judy, my pockets were stuffed with the necessaries of life--tea,
sugar, soap, sometimes even bits of meat; they called it _biltong_, but
it was really nothing more or less than dried meat."
"Disgusting!" murmured Miss Cleeve. Evidently she had never suffered
the exigencies of a coach journey. She must have arrived by balloon.
They glanced coldly at my battered dress-cases and hat-boxes which stood
piled by the door.
"All packed to the brim with absolute necessities," I said. "The
post-cart regulations allowed one to carry exactly sixty-four pounds.
Of course I carried far more, but they charged me eight pounds, six
shillings, and fourpence excess. The transport-waggon people promised
to have my trunks in Salisbury in four weeks' time, and I thought if I
stayed about six weeks that would give me some fresh gowns to wear here,
and an outfit to return in."
In the smile which greeted my words as I explained this to them I could
not but recognise grimness as well as malice. The horsewoman proffered
some gloomy information.
"Your things will take six months to get up here--if they ever arrive at
all."
"Why, what is likely to happen to them?"
She shrugged, and spoke in jerks.
"Wet season coming on. Transport drivers take ten times longer than in
dry season. Get stuck in mud-holes. Sit for weeks on river banks
waiting for floods to go down. Roads sometimes so bad they abandon
their loads. Leave them piled up by the roadside for next waggons to
bring. Next waggons usually open them and help themselves to what they
like best. Kaffirs also come and help themselves. Once when I was
travelling with my husband amongst the kaffir kraals in Bechuanaland I
came across a native girl wearing a pink satin ball-gown that I had last
seen at my dressmaker's in Kimberley and which had been dispatched by
waggon with a lot of other things."
I could not help wondering who would have looked funnier in the pink
satin ball-gown--Mrs Brand or the black girl.
"Yes, and then there is the sad tale of Mrs Marriott," chimed in Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe, gazing at me with her striped eyes. "She came up
here to be married, bringing her wedding-gown and a few things with her
in the coach, while her _trousseau_ and the other things for the house
were sent by waggon in three enormous cases. Well, the coach had an
accident crossing a river, and she lost everything she had with her, and
arrived here in a grey skirt and a pink print shirt which she was
married in. That was six months ago--but if you get up early-enough in
the morning you will meet Mrs Marriott doing her shopping before any
one is about, still wearing her grey skirt and pink print blouse."
"Impossible!" I cried, petrified. "Well, there you are! Her three
packing cases never arrived, that's all."
"But how frightful! Surely she could have been helped out with some
kind of wardrobe. Surely you--" I looked from one to another of them.
"Oh, she's not one of us," said Judy carelessly. "She's a Port George
woman. We couldn't very well offer to do anything. Besides, they say
she is quite unapproachable. I believe the women here were ready to be
friendly, but she rebuffed all advances."
"She has other troubles, besides lack of a wardrobe," said Miss Cleeve
dryly.
"No one has ever been inside her house even," said Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe. "Very silly of her, I think. In my opinion it
always does one good to tell one's troubles to some one else."
At this Mrs Valetta gave a dry laugh that drew my attention to her, but
she still had her eyes closed.
"Ah, Porkie," said Miss Cleeve, "we haven't all your simple, confiding
nature." Porkie, otherwise Mrs Skeffington-Smythe, threw her a glance
that was neither simple nor confiding.
"Dear Anna, thank Heaven I am exceptional in having nothing to confide,"
she retorted with a sort of perky significance.
How tired I felt of them all, and how disappointed! They were full of
petty malice and empty bitterness and were making me just the same. I
already felt a blight on the joy that Africa had waked in me. As day by
day I had sped across the wide, rolling plains and rivers, in the
generous sunshine, I had seemed to feel my soul expand and be set free
from the littlenesses of life. Now here, right up in the heart of the
wide continent where I had dreamed of finding simple-hearted people
living happy, sincere lives--here were the petty things of life once
more--empty malice, small talk, and aching hearts caused by a lack of
_poudre de riz_! And not a sign of Lobengula and his six wives!
I finished my tomato sandwiches and sighed for my disillusionment. Mrs
Skeffington-Smythe spoke me kindly:
"My poor child! you must be terribly warm in your heavy coat. Why don't
you take it off?"
"Yes, I think I really must," I said, glad of a reason to rise and
depart. "I am so very tired, Judy. I hope you will forgive me if I ask
to go to bed at once."
"Oh, of course," she said, and they all chorused "Of course," and began
to put on their wraps to go. "It was horrid of us to come in so soon,"
they said, "but we simply _had_ to welcome you. It is sweet having some
one new; it is so sinfully dull up here. Of course, knowing that you
had arrived so recently from home, we couldn't resist coming straight
away. _Do_ forgive us. Goodnight. Do rest. You look _positively
haggard_ with fatigue."
That was the last poisoned arrow they flung at me. But I received it
heroically, for I observed that Judy and Mrs Valetta, who still
remained seated, had discarded their languor and weariness for a moment
and were sharing a malicious smile. I should have liked to take down
one of the assegais from the wall to them, but I had to content myself
with saying dryly:
"It is really too charming of you all to welcome me so warmly!"
Mrs Valetta continued to smile in her sleep, but Judy resumed her
languor like a wrap as the door closed on the others.
"Ah! we all live in each others' houses up here--and know each others'
secrets. You will get used to this happy state of things if you mean to
stay long, Deirdre."
This last somewhat enquiringly, I thought; but I had no intention of
issuing a statement at that stage. I made no response, only nodded
good-night to Mrs Valetta and followed Judy to my room.
While she was lighting candles on the dressing-table she said:
"Nina Skeffington-Smythe was simply dying for you to take off your coat,
so that she might see what kind of figure you have, and was dreadfully
disappointed when you didn't respond to her invitation."
I stared at my sister-in-law reflectively, thinking how she had changed,
and what bad luck it was to have to stay here amongst all these
unfriendly women instead of being able to go right into the wild, deep
heart of Africa. For the first time in my life I regretted not being a
man. I even regretted my lions that were hyenas!
"Are we likely to be here long?" I asked abruptly.
"Heaven knows! I have begged Colonel Blow, the Magistrate, to let you
and me go on to Salisbury to-morrow in the coach, but he won't. He says
that low we are here we must stay until the trouble with Lobengula is
all over. You know, of course, that they are sending an expedition
against him. Two columns are starting as soon as they have all the
horses they want, and all the men from here are going to join them. I
feel sure that Dick will go with the Salisbury Column if I don't get
back in time to stop him."
"But you surely won't try to stop him, Judy? Poor old boy! Fighting is
his profession, after all, and how he will love to get back to it. Just
imagine how you would if you were a man. I know I should."
"That's all very well, Deirdre, but Dick might get killed. And it's so
uncomfortable here, too," she continued. "Mrs Valetta, and I, and now
you, all stuffed together in this tiny house not big enough for one."
Her tone was frankly resentful.
"I'm awfully sorry, Judy. Of course, if I had known how uncomfortable I
should make you I would not have come. But I had no idea until I was
nearly here that this war business was so far advanced."
"Oh, they have been making preparations for some time, but very quietly,
so as not to give the Matabele the advantage of knowing our plans. But
the time is close at hand now. Mr Rhodes is up in Salisbury, and Dr
Jim is backwards and forwards all the time between here and Victoria and
Charter, and the men everywhere are as excited as they can be over the
chance of war. They are only waiting for a last consignment of horses,
then they'll go, and we wretched women will be left behind to be shut up
in what they call a _laager_."
"Even that might be interesting if there were not such a lot of cross,
catty women about," I thought, and was indiscreet enough to say
something of the kind. Judy immediately fell upon me with a dagger.
"I always think it such a pity when girls don't like other women," she
said, in a stuffy little voice. "It seems to me there is something
lacking in a nature like that."
"I do like other women, Judy, but I don't think those who were here
to-night liked me much. They made me feel like a newly arrived
favourite in a harem."
It _was_ rather a rude thing to say, but really they had been very
annoying, and Judy as much as any of them. She answered me in an
extremely bored voice.
"You mustn't fall into the mistake that women are jealous of you simply
because they take an interest in your appearance, dear."
"Oh, I don't," I said wearily. "I am quite used to having an interest
taken in my appearance."
This annoyed her very much, so she pretended not to hear, and continued:
"It would be rather absurd if you did, here, for all the Salisbury women
are by way of being good looking, and really, dear, you are not looking
your best. Of course, I _know_ you must be very tired."
Tired! After a journey of fourteen days and nights and adventures
enough to turn my hair white! After being nearly drowned in rivers and
nearly eaten by lions, and getting blisters on my heels and mosquito
bites on my hands, and grass-ticks all over me, and being left alone on
the veldt all night with tigers and hyenas! Tired!
I thought of all my sufferings and my weariness, my ruined complexion,
the sunburn on my nose and the blister on my heel, and I could openly
and frankly have howled aloud. But I saw that the expression on Judy's
face was neither of sympathy nor of sorrow. By an effort I controlled
myself, and began to take my coat and hat and veil and things off. As I
could see no pegs anywhere I hung them up on the floor, and as calmly as
possible but very firmly I said:
"Do, please, let me go to bed."
"Certainly, dear."
How I wished she wouldn't "dear" me in that insincere and meaningless
way.