AN INDIAN LETTER.
“Great, great news, girls!” cried Jessie, waving the letter over her
head. “Mrs. Brande--I mean Aunt Sally--has written to ask one of us
to go out and live with her, and she seems quite certain that her
offer will be accepted, for she encloses a cheque for outfit and
passage-money. It is a short invitation, too; whoever elects to see
India must start within the next fortnight.”
Honor and Fairy gazed at one another incredulously, and Fairy’s
delicate complexion changed rapidly from pink to crimson, from crimson
to white.
“I’ll read it to you,” continued Jessie, sitting down as she spoke.
“The writing is peculiar, and some of the words are only underlined
four times. Ahem!
“‘Rookwood, Shirani.
“‘DEAR SISTER-IN-LAW,
“‘It is not often that I take up my pen, but I have something most
important to say to you. I am not as young as I was, and I feel
the want of some sort of company. Pelham is away a good deal, and
I am left alone with Ben; he is the best-hearted creature in the
world, and knows every word I say, but he can’t talk, nor help in
the housekeeping, nor go to balls and church, being only a dog. What
would you think of letting me have one of your girls? You have three,
and might spare one. Indeed, three unmarried daughters must be a
really terrible anxiety to any mother. We expect to be home in about
a year, so if the worst comes to the worst, you will have her back
again in twelve months’ time. Whoever you send, you may be sure I
will be a mother to her, and so will Pelham. She shall have the best
of everything in the way of society and clothes, and I guarantee
that she only knows the _nicest beaux_, and that she will be very
happy. The hot weather is coming on, and travelling after April is
dangerous, both by land and sea, so I would like you to send her as
soon as possible. She ought to start not later than a fortnight after
you receive this, otherwise, it will be no use her coming at all. She
could not set out again till October, and it would not be worth her
while to come to us for six months. Pel encloses a cheque for her
passage, and thirty-five pounds extra for boxes, gloves, petticoats,
etc. I prefer to devise her dresses _myself_, and will turn her out
smart. No doubt you are not in the way of seeing the new fashions, and
we are uncommonly dressy out here. If she could be in Bombay by the
_middle of April_, I could meet her at Allahabad and bring her up, for
I don’t approve of girls travelling alone. Pel is anxious, too, and
hopes you won’t refuse us. You know he has a good deal in his power;
your girls are his _next-of-kin_, and a nod is as good as a _wink_ to
a blind horse--of course, not meaning that _you_ are a blind horse.
This place is gay in the season, and has plenty of tamashas; as for
snakes, there is no such thing; and with regard to climate, you can
make yourself _quite_ easy.
“‘The climatological conditions of these hill-districts are a most
important element in their physical geography, and will therefore
require to be treated at considerable length. An extensive discussion
of the meteorology cannot be attempted, but sufficient data have
already been collected to serve as a basis for general description
of the climate. In this respect the Himalayas, on account of their
less distance from the equator, present many points of _advantage_ as
compared with the Alps and other European mountains.’” (The above,
with the exception of the italics, had been boldly copied from a
gazetteer found in Mr. Brande’s writing-room.)
“‘There is generally a fair sprinkling of young men, and of course
we entertain a great deal. She shall have a nice quiet pony, and a
new _rickshaw_, so we shall expect her without fail. Love to your
daughters, and especially to _our_ one.
“‘Yours truly,
“‘SARABELLA BRANDE.’
“Now, what do you think of that?” inquired Jessie, looking alternately
at her two staring sisters.
“I say that it is a hoax, of course! Some joke of yours, Jessie,”
returned Honor, with a playful snatch at the letter. “What is all that
gibberish about Uncle Pelham being a mother to one, and mother not
being a blind horse, and the climatological condition of the hills, not
to mention the snakes and the _beaux_? You ought to be ashamed--I could
have done it better myself.”
“Read it--examine the post-mark,” said Jessie, now flinging it on the
table.
Yes, there was no room for doubt; it was a _bona-fide_ Indian epistle.
As Honor turned it over critically, she suddenly exclaimed--
“Have you seen _this_--the gem of the whole production--the postscript?”
Both sisters bent forward eagerly, and there, just at the top of the
last and otherwise blank sheet, was scribbled as a hasty afterthought--
“P.S.--Be sure you send the _pretty_ one.”
“She must be a most original old person,” said Honor, with sparkling
eyes. “And, in the name of Dr. Johnson, what is a ‘tamasha’?”
“Ask me something easier,” rejoined Jessie.
“Then what does mother say to this remarkable invitation?”
“You might know better than to ask that!” broke in Fairy, who had been
listening with evident impatience. “In this family it is, ‘What does
Jessie say?’ What _do_ you say, Jess?”
“I say, never refuse a good offer. It is only for twelve months; and,
of course, one of us must go!”
“Then, will _you_ go?” inquired Fairy, with elevated brows.
“Am I the pretty one?” Jessie demanded sarcastically. “I should be
bundled back by the next steamer.”
“No, of course; I never thought of that,” rejoined her sister,
meditatively. “I am the pretty one; there has never been any question
of that--has there, girls?”
“No, never,” returned Jessie, in her most matter-of-fact tone, and she
and Honor exchanged stealthy glances.
For some seconds Fairy seemed buried in thought, as she drew patterns
on the table-cloth with a fork. At last she looked up, and exclaimed--
“It is only for twelve months as you say, Jess; twelve months soon fly
round.” And she threw back her shawl, and leant her elbows on the
table. “Never refuse a good offer--such as a pony, a rickshaw--whatever
that is--the new dresses, the best society, the best _beaux_!” and she
burst into a peal of shrill laughter, as she exclaimed, “Do you know,
girls, that I think I shall go!”
A pause, the result of utter stupefaction, followed this unexpected
announcement.
“Yes,” she continued, with increased animation, “I believe I should
like it, of all things. The idea grows on me. I am thrown away here.
What is the use of a pretty face if it is never seen? Did she say
_thirty-five_ pounds for outfit? I can make that go a long way. I
don’t take yards of stuff, like you two giantesses. My tailor-made and
my spring dress are new. I’ll just run up and talk it over with the
mater.” And she pushed back her chair, and bustled out of the room.
Jessie and Honor remained gazing at one another across the table, in
dead suggestive silence, which was at last broken by Jessie, who said
in a tone of quiet despair--
“I wish that ridiculous letter had never come. At first I thought it a
capital thing. I thought you ought to accept.”
“I!” cried Honor; “and, pray, why should you select _me_?”
“For half a dozen excellent reasons; you are pretty, young, bright,
and popular. You have a knack of making friends. All the people about
here and in the village would rather have _your_ little finger than the
rest of us put together. You walk straight into their hearts, my love,
and therefore you are the most suitable member of this family to be
despatched to India to ingratiate yourself with our rich relations.”
“Your fine compliments are wasted, Jess--your ‘butter’ thrown away--for
I am not going to India.”
“No; and Fairy has ere this selected her steamer and travelling
costume; if she has made up her mind to go, nothing will stop her--and
Uncle Pelham and Aunt Sally have never been told that Fairy is--is--so
small. What _will_ they say?” regarding her sister with awestruck eyes
and a heightened colour.
What, indeed, would Mrs. Brande--who was already boasting of her niece
from England, and loudly trumpeting the fame of the lovely girl she
expected--say to Fairy? What would be her feelings when she was called
upon to welcome a remarkably pretty little _dwarf_?
“It must be prevented,” murmured Honor. “She cannot be allowed to go.”
“Is Fairy ever prevented from doing what she wishes?” asked Jessie,
with a solemn face.
To this pertinent question her sister could find no adequate reply.
After a pause she rose and said--
“Let us go upstairs, and hear what she is saying to mother.”
Mrs. Gordon was sitting up in bed with a flushed face and anxious
expression, listening to the brilliant description of Fairy’s future
career in India.
Fairy, with both elbows on the bed, and her pointed chin in her hands,
was rapidly enumerating her new dresses, and wondering how soon they
would be ready, declaring how fortunate it was that she had a quantity
of patterns in the house, and that if her mother would only advance
twenty pounds she could do wonders. She talked so incessantly, and so
volubly, that no one had a chance of advising, objecting, or putting in
one single word. Her mother and sisters listened in enforced, uneasy
silence, to the torrent of this little creature’s almost impassioned
eloquence.
“It will take a fortnight to get ready,” she said. “This is the
fifteenth of March; what a scurry there will be! You two girls will
have to sew your fingers to the bone--won’t they, mother?”
Her mother faltered a feeble assent.
“I shall want at least twelve gowns and half a dozen hats. I must go
into Hastings to-morrow.” She paused at last, with scarlet cheeks, and
quite breathless.
“There is nearly a week before the mail goes out,” ventured Jessie;
“and it is rather too soon to decide yet. The letter only came an hour
ago, and there is much to be considered, before mother can make up her
mind as to which of us she can spare, and----”
“The whole thing is _quite_ settled,” interrupted Fairy in her sharpest
key--Jessie was not her favourite sister--“only you are always so fond
of interfering and managing every one, from mother down. Aunt Sara
expressly asked for the pretty one; you saw it in black and white, and
mother says I am to please myself--did you not, mother?” appealing to
her parent, whose eyes sank guiltily before the reproachful gaze of her
eldest daughter. Nevertheless she bravely sighed out--
“Yes, Fairy, I suppose so.”
“There!” cried Fairy, triumphantly. “You see mother has decided, and
I have decided. I am not like some people, who take weeks to make
up their minds, especially when moments are precious. I must write a
quantity of letters for the early post. Honor, do you remember the name
of Mrs. Travers’ dressmaker? and do you think I should get a habit and
riding-boots?”