There is no doubt that one of the minor pleasures of the hot Indian
hours for the mem-sahib is a morning spent in a cool corner of the
verandah while the hawker unfastens his bales of goods and displays his
fascinating wares; and that pleasure is enhanced when shared by the
companionship of a sympathetic friend of the feminine gender, or even
one of the masculine if he is of the right sort.
Hester had invited Mrs. Fellowes to share the pleasant responsibility of
choosing the Christmas presents for home, and she considered herself
fortunate in securing her busy friend. A happy, wholesome-minded woman
in all things, Mrs. Fellowes admitted that she enjoyed the display of
the beautiful wares, and even entered into the spirit of the oriental
chaffering which made part of the stock-in-trade of those Eastern
pedlars.
It was Rayner Dorai himself who had given orders to his butler to fetch
the important functionaries. He had been commanded to summon Yacoob, a
little old Mussulman who had more than once presented himself with
appealing eyes to inquire whether the mem-sahib would permit him to show
his wares--"no buying, seeing only!"
Hester had succumbed once to the temptation, and had bought a trifle;
but since that occasion she had resisted Yacoob's appeals, promising
that when she required such things she would not fail to buy from him.
Veeraswamy had therefore been duly dispatched to Triplicane, the
Mussulman quarter, where he said he knew Yacoob dwelt. On the way,
however, he happened to encounter Ismail, another hawker, accompanied
by a couple of coolies carrying his bales, which betokened him rather a
superior gentleman of the trade. Here was an opportunity which
Veeraswamy could not resist. Announcing to the Mussulman that he had
been commissioned by Rayner Dorai to fetch a hawker, he intimated to
Ismail that in return for a little _backsheesh_ he might be the
fortunate man.
The hawker was a muscular-looking, sleek, well-fed man of pale olive
complexion and cheeks, which showed ruddy under the brown skin. From
bushy over-hanging eyebrows peered out a pair of bold, cunning eyes, and
his square chin was adorned by a dense black beard which he was wagging
now in gratified approval as he selected a four-anna piece from his
money-bag and held it out to the Hindu.
"Son of a pig, wouldst thou insult me with only that?" flashed
Veeraswamy. "I go on to Triplicane to look for another."
"Halt, pariah dog, dost thou know that not one pie need touch thy greedy
palm? I go to the Rayner compound, I display my treasures, mem-sahib
buys," returned Ismail, spreading out his hands dramatically.
"For one rupee only will I sell my honour," replied Veeraswamy, raising
his first finger.
"Wallah, one rupee? 'Twill need too much buying by the mem-sahib to
recoup that! Here then, I give eight annas, greedy one!"
"Not one pie less than one rupee," said the butler, setting his head on
one side, and planting himself on the path that led to Clive's Road.
"Take then, thou pariah dog, and a bright new coin too," said Ismail,
opening his palm to part with the rupee which he had ready, knowing from
the first that it would be exacted as the butler's commission.
"You will find the mem-sahib in the verandah, also mem-sahib Fellowes.
They sit with pot full of gold awaiting Ismail's coming," announced
Veeraswamy with a grin, as he prepared to push on his way to
Triplicane.
"Where, son of a pig, where off to now? Dost thou not return with me to
the mem-sahibs?" cried Ismail, with a scowl as he watched him.
"I come, I follow quickly! I go only to get some ghee for my curry from
the village near by."
Shaking his head, Ismail already debited his rupee as a bad debt, and
went on his way along the red laterite road followed by the patient
coolies, who ploughed their way through the red dust like beasts of
burden under their heavy load, with no covering for their brown skin
save their loin cloths and big turbans.
Ismail began to doubt whether Veeraswamy's commission was not altogether
bogus, but his sleek countenance broke into a huge smile when he reached
the verandah, and pushing aside a corner of one of the green chinks he
caught sight of the two English ladies, who sat chatting together in the
most promising manner.
"Oh, here he comes already! Your boy has been uncommonly smart surely,"
exclaimed Mrs. Fellowes, looking up from the silk sock she was knitting,
one of her joys being to keep the colonel in beautiful socks of her own
manufacture.
Ismail was salaaming profoundly, but his smile changed to a scowl as he
overheard Hester say:
"Ah, but this is not the dear little Yacoob! My boy surely can't have
understood the one I wanted."
Ismail hoped devoutly that Veeraswamy would continue to misunderstand.
"I werry fine stock, mem-sahib will see," he said eagerly, pushing into
the verandah without waiting for an invitation. Beckoning to his
coolies, they trudged up and quickly deposited their burdens on the
rattan matting of the verandah, and with low salaams hurried down the
wide steps again to dispose themselves under the nearest tree and regale
themselves with betel-nut, which never failed to find a lodgment in some
fold of their linen cloth.
Ismail, being a man of great astuteness as well as of large experience,
at once perceived that the butler's report was correct, and that the
mem-sahib was on this occasion an intending customer, and an eager one
too. He noted also how her pretty eyes, soft grey blue like a monsoon
sky, lighted up when she caught sight of his embroideries which he began
deftly to display. How fortunate was his good knowledge of "Englishe,"
he thought, which enabled him to understand even her asides to the older
lady, whom he also hoped to captivate as a customer. The young mem-sahib
evidently wanted not one thing but many things.
"Yes, I have one beautee smoke-cap, just suiting one padre sahib!" He
produced thereupon the article and sold it for the price he asked. Then
his richly embroidered table covers sewed on black cloth were examined,
but the hawker's face grew dark as he overheard Mrs. Fellowes remarking:
"We must examine carefully the stuff they are sewn on. They often put
the most exquisite work on the joined up tail of a dress coat, or even a
bit out of a pair of trousers."
Mrs. Fellowes' first finger thereupon went right through a worn-out
patch in a gorgeous table cover.
"Oh, that would never do for mother," said Hester, at once rejecting the
handsome embroidery. "She would never forgive the immorality of it, for
one thing!"
"Well, my dear, what you must do in future is to order the cloth from
home and give it to a faithful man to embroider."
"Ah, here comes my friend, Yacoob!" exclaimed Hester, as there appeared
a little, refined-looking old man with delicate features, large well-set
eyes, and a sweet sensitive face.
"Oh, yes, I've heard of Yacoob," said Mrs. Fellowes. "I believe he is
the most beautiful embroiderer in Madras, and the most honest," she
whispered, but not so low that it did not catch the quick ear of
Ismail, who looked furious as Yacoob stood smilingly salaaming to the
ladies.
Yacoob was far from being a rich man like Ismail, and had carried his
own goods unaided, save by a slender boy, his grandson. Veeraswamy had,
of course, hurried to Triplicane to summon the good little hawker, whom
he found sitting cross-legged in his pandal, sewing exquisite embroidery
on the finest of white muslin, surrounded by several generations of his
family, the youngest members being dusky babies crawling about the
carpet on which he sat; yet no spot or stain ever reached Yacoob's
needlework.
On hearing of the mem-sahib's summons he bundled his sewing into a green
silk kerchief which looked none of the cleanest, but which must have
been in some occult way warranted not to contaminate Yacoob's precious
art.
He looked sad and pathetic as he caught sight of Ismail's jealous frown.
It was evident his sensitive nature shrank from the rough rivalry of his
class. With feeble fingers he began to untie his parcel of goods when
Hester said:
"Come, Yacoob, my heart is set on having one of your beautiful
beetle-wing dresses. I want it for my cousin," she added, turning to
Mrs. Fellowes, "I think she would like one done on black best."
"Salaams, mem-sahib, but I only have the best shining beetle-wings,"
said Ismail, making a cringing progress towards Hester as he held up
yards of net embroidered with iridescent beetle-wings.
"Now, let's examine this!" said Mrs. Fellowes. "Since you want a dress,
the net must, at least, be new! This is lovely work, Ismail, but what
about the net! It isn't black, it's the colour of dusty spider's web!
Let me see one of yours, Yacoob."
The little man brought the required length with a gracious salaam and an
assured smile.
"Now, this will do, the net is jet black and strong!"
"Very well, I'll have this, Yacoob," said Hester. "How much does it
cost?"
A very moderate price was named, but at once Ismail came forward saying
harshly: "Too much charging, mem-sahib. I giving for seven rupees less.
A very best one too--not one I shewing first."
He turned to rummage in his bales, but Hester was not to be moved.
Little Yacoob's beetle-wing dress was laid aside to be admired for many
a day across the sea.
Fortunately for Ismail he was able to display some wares which Yacoob's
slender capital did not admit of, so that he was not without profit in
the morning's dealings; but being of a surly, jealous disposition he
owed a fresh grudge against Yacoob that he should have been preferred,
and a still more bitter grudge against the butler for his share in the
transaction.
At length all the purchases were completed. Yacoob was departing with a
lightened bale of goods and a full purse, his old face wearing an air of
gracious courtesy, when a corner of the rattan blinds was lightly pushed
aside and a girl's face appeared.
"Why, that is the girl I was telling you about, Mrs. Fellowes!"
exclaimed Hester. "How good you happen to be here! Perhaps she has
thought better of it and come to enrol."
Hester rose from her chair, and hurried across the verandah. The blind
had been dropped, but when she raised it, there stood the girl,
spell-bound, it seemed, staring intently with parched lips and dilating
eyes on the young wife who looked at her with a friendly smile.
"How do you do! I recollect you quite well. You looked in at our meeting
one afternoon. I'm glad you've come this morning, you'll see Mrs.
Fellowes herself. Do come in!"
The girl hesitated, then curiosity or some other feeling seemed to
prevail, and she drew herself up with a repressed air and silently
followed the mistress of the house.
"This is Leila Baltus I told you of," said Hester, standing in front of
Mrs. Fellowes' chair.
Something seemed to irritate the girl, who said in a bellicose tone:
"Ho, so you've got hold of my name, have you? Well, I'm glad and I'm
sorry," she muttered, scanning Hester eagerly, while Mrs. Fellowes eyes
rested on her with a meditative glance.
"Oh, you needn't be eyeing me up and down like that," retorted the girl,
with an insolent toss of her head. "You'll not catch me sitting on a
bench like a chit of a schoolgirl after I've seen life. La, you could
hardly expect Leila Baltus to do thatt at this time o' day," she added,
with a laugh.
Before she had finished speaking Mrs. Fellowes' eyes were upon her
knitting again. Her face looked grave and troubled, but she made no
remark.
"But won't you just come once and see what a happy afternoon we have?"
asked Hester in a coaxing tone. "We have some beautiful patterns for
clothes, and there is reading aloud and singing," she urged, looking
into the bitter face with a winning smile of which her friend, glancing
up suddenly, seemed to catch the pathos, as a ray of sunlight from
aslant the green blinds lit up the fair young face till it looked as an
angel's might. Mrs. Fellowes sighed deeply as she bent over her work
again, and did not let her eyes rest further on the stranger.
"Well, I'll not come to your meeting! That's flat! But no offence meant.
I say, does your husband happen to be at home?" asked the girl sharply.
"It's with La'yer Rayner I've got a bit of business."
"Oh, you want to see my husband on business, do you? You are one of his
clients, perhaps? He is at the High Court, but you might see him by
appointment," said Hester, thinking after all she had made a stupid
mistake.
"Oh, as to thatt, I'm not particular anxious to face those business
dens. Maybe I'll get a peep of him yet, and a word of him too, nearer
home, some day. I'll be stepping now. Sorry I can't oblige you about
the class," she added, glancing down with malicious air at Mrs.
Fellowes, who still sat with her eyes fixed on her knitting. "Maybe
you'll be good enough to mention to Mister Rayner as how Leila Baltus
called--his client--is that how you name it?" she asked, with a titter;
then, drawing her tawdry black lace scarf round her handsome shoulders,
she walked away and disappeared into the bright sunshine beyond the
green blinds.
"Well, we haven't made much of Miss Leila Baltus after all," said
Hester, throwing herself into her chair. "I suppose you came to the
conclusion at once that she wasn't a hopeful 'Friendly?'"
"I did, my dear," returned Mrs. Fellowes gravely. "I don't want to
discourage you, but I fear for the present at least we can't reach that
bit of stony ground. And if you will not think me hard, I should advise
you to leave Miss Leila Baltus severely alone."
Mrs. Fellowes was of the type that "hopeth all things"; her advice,
therefore, took Hester by surprise, but her great respect for her
opinion on all matters made her wish to discuss the subject further.
Just then, however, the conversation was interrupted by the gong
sounding for tiffin.
As Mrs. Fellowes passed through the drawing-room on her young hostess's
arm there was a shadow on her face which had not left it since the
appearance of the mysterious visitor, and which returned to it in after
hours when she recalled the unpleasant incident.
Meanwhile Leila Baltus with rapid steps had left the Rayners' compound,
and stood glancing up and down the road as if in search of someone.
Presently she perceived an elderly woman lurking behind a jungly hedge,
and joined her, saying bitterly:
"No manner of use--only wasted our shoe leather! You were quite out of
your reckoning, mother, in thinkin' we'd catch him at tiffin time. Alf
ain't so easy caught, worse luck!"
"So you haven't seen him?" said the older woman, with a dispirited
sigh. "Why, but this was to be your trump card, you boasted--and it's
failed!"
"Not quite, for I've been inside the verandah, and seen her in her own
house that should have been mine. I could have put a knife into her, for
all that she's a pleasant, soft-spoken lady. Somehow I didn't get my
tongue proper loosed on her! But I hate her, yes, I hate her, all the
more that she's so fair and prettee"; and the girl raised a clenched
fist and shook it in the air.
"Ay, you mind, Leila, how he twitted me with our being black
half-castes? But I'll be even with Alfred Rayner yet!" cried the old
woman shrilly, swaying from very weariness as she tramped along the hot,
dusty road.
"Come, mother, I'll tell you what she was dressed in. It'll shorten the
road," said the girl, with an effort to be cheerful, as she cast a
pitying glance at the stumbling figure by her side, and drew her
mother's arm into hers.
"Well, her dress wasn't silk, it wasn't even fine sprigged muslin, but
just cotton, think of that--no better than bazaar dungerie, or your own
morning wrapper. But, oh, it was such a beautee! It was pale blue, and
it had lovelee gathers on the bodice, smockin', I think they call it.
You see it in the fashion plates. It's my belief I could imitate thatt
if only money weren't so hard to get," she wound up with a sigh.
"Trust me, Leila, I'll have another and a bigger note out of him in no
time. I've taken the measure of him. He's a coward as well as a villain.
I declare he's no better than if he was a native. Did you ever notice
his hands? There's no strength there--just slim, long fingers like a
half-caste's. Yes, I'll be even with that young man yet," cried the
woman, with undaunted spirit as she trudged along, weary and footsore.
The chairs and tables of the verandah at Clive's Road were still strewn
with Hester's purchases when her husband returned from the High Court.
She was delighted with his sympathetic attitude and with his approval of
her choice of gifts. He was eager also to help her in affixing cards
with the names, so dear and familiar to her, and loving Christmas wishes
on each. His zeal even reached the unwonted climax of rummaging in a
godown for tin-lined cases and helping her to pack her offerings. At
length all was finished, and they sank on their lounging chairs with a
sense of a well-earned rest.
Never had Hester felt in closer unison with her husband or more
radiantly happy. The deal packing case lay near, requiring only the
coming of the "tinie-smith" in the morning to solder its lining down.
Every now and then she cast loving looks upon it, seeing visions of what
pleasure its arrival would bring to the beloved inmates of the Rectory,
while her husband gaily congratulated her in having made a hundred
rupees buy so many pretty things. "And from Ismail too, a hard-fisted
rascal, follows the profession of a _soukar_, a money-lender--as well as
that of a hawker--swindled a client of mine lately."
"Oh, that reminds me, Alfred. There was a client of yours in search of
you here just before tiffin----"
"A client? Young Hyde from Palaveram?"
"Oh, no, I wish it had been, poor fellow! No, it was a haughty,
inscrutable-looking young woman, to whom Mrs. Fellowes seemed to take an
instinctive dislike, and she's generally so charitable. Poor thing, I
thought at first she was coming to enrol for our 'Friendly.' But I think
I once asked you before if you knew her by name," said Hester, suddenly
pausing. She certainly had not connected Alfred's outburst of temper
with the name of this girl, but she felt she ought to have remembered
that the very mention of any Eurasian seemed to make her husband angry.
"Dear me, Hester, how you do meander on!" said Mr. Rayner irritably.
"What was the girl's name?"
"Leila Baltus," answered Hester meekly. "She said you would know who she
was--in fact, it was you she came to see."
"Never heard of such a person in my life! She's no client of mine, be
assured of that--more likely a lying half-caste beggar!"
Hester saw that her husband looked blanched as if by uncontrollable
anger--or was it agitation? He was silent for a moment, then he asked,
evidently with an effort to assume an unconcerned tone: "Did the
creature say what she wanted? Did she give any reason for her visit?"
"Not in the least! I think she said she would see you some other time.
She certainly called herself a client," replied Hester dejectedly, for
it was borne in upon her that her husband's sudden source of annoyance
came after all from the mention of this girl's name. He did know Leila
Baltus, though he denied all knowledge of her! It was a staggering
revelation to the young wife. She turned her clear eyes on her husband's
averted profile and longed to say: "This secrecy, this prevarication is
much harder to bear than anything you may have to tell me!"
On his side, Alfred Rayner was dwelling, with as much honest regret as
his nature was capable of, on his having been unfortunate enough to have
been betrayed into useless lying concerning a matter which he might have
dealt with more effectually by acknowledging his former flirtation--now
hateful to him--with this Eurasian girl. To have assured Hester, as he
had assured the old woman on the road, that her daughter had no possible
hold on him, but was simply blackmailing. But what would the
straight-forward Hester think if he laid bare the whole matter now when
she recalled that not five minutes ago he had disavowed all knowledge of
the girl? No, the remedy would be worse than the trouble, he decided
peevishly. He rose from his chair complaining of a headache, and went
sullenly to bed.