by F. E. Penny
CHAPTER IX
A soft, balmy air brushed the blossoms of the eucharis lilies, andswept over the delicate green maidenhair fern growing under the shadeof the verandah of the Principal's house. Out in the broad sunshinethe blue ipomea, the morning glory of the Indian garden, opened itsmass of azure blooms and spread a gorgeous mantle over the bambootrellis that supported it.
The plump rounded figure of Mrs. Hulver, Dr. Wenaston's housekeeper,appeared on the raised verandah, followed by the butler. She was awidow and had been married three times, a fact that no one of heracquaintance was permitted to forget.
Her father was a British soldier of Scotch birth; and her mother aEurasian. In her youth Maria had some pretensions to good looks. Itwas the prettiness of youth so often seen where the blood of the eastand the west is mixed. Her small regular features and olive complexioncould make no claim to beauty in her mature middle age, when her figurehad lost its delicate proportions and gained in amplitude. The eyesalone were unaltered. She had her Scotch father's grey eyes with hiskeen glance. Nothing escaped them, as the servants knew by experience;and when they failed to elucidate a domestic mystery her inheritedshrewdness came to her assistance.
At the age of sixteen a marriage was made for her by her mother, whochose a prosperous and not over-scrupulous overseer in the Public WorksDepartment named William Delaine. He was more than double the age ofhis bride; and had lived long enough to put together a nice littleproperty in houses and land. There were no children, and when he diedten years later he left everything to his widow.
Her second marriage was to an Englishman, whose regiment was stationedat Bangalore. Corporal William Smith was a reserved man of athoroughly British temperament, endowed with a rugged honesty thatdespised any sort of evasion of the truth in speech or action.Uncompromisingly straightforward he did much to carry on the earlytraining of Maria's mind begun by her father. She was very happy withWilliam Smith in a placid way, and bore him a son who was educated inthe barrack-school and in due time drafted into the drummer-boy corpsattached to the regiment. Later the boy enlisted and followed in thefootsteps of his father. William Smith was about to take his pensionand return to England when he was struck down with malarial fever; andfor the second time in her life Maria became a widow.
Her third husband was an Irish soldier who had been pensioned andelected to remain in the country. He also bore the name of William.Being of a good-natured domesticated disposition, Hulver cast his eyesround the large domiciled European and Eurasian community in Bangalorefor a suitable wife. Mrs. William Smith seemed in every way the womanto fill the position. She was of the right age, unencumbered bychildren except for the one son who was provided for. In addition sheowned a nice little property which, with his pension, would make lifeeasy and comfortable.
A little hitch at one time seemed likely to upset his plans. It was amatter of religion. Hulver was a Roman Catholic. Maria belonged tothe English Church. He made an effort to bring her over to his side,but she stood firm; and sooner than lose so desirable a partner hejoined her Church. They were very happy, but unfortunately he did notlive long, and for the third time she was widowed. After his death shefound life very dull. She determined to take a situation ashousekeeper and advertised in one of the big Indian daily newspapers.
Eola Wenaston, who came out with her brother on his appointment asPrincipal of the College of Chirapore, saw the advertisement andengaged her. The arrangement proved highly satisfactory to both.During Dr. and Miss Wenaston's six months' holiday in England Mrs.Hulver occupied one of her own houses at Bangalore. The enforcedidleness was not at all to her mind, and she welcomed their return withunmixed joy.
In her holiday she replenished her wardrobe by the aid of a tailor.The new muslins and white drill frocks were cut exactly on the oldpattern--a skirt that gave plenty of room and spread like a bell overher feet; a bodice that showed no fashionable bulge in sleeve orshoulder but confined her figure decently and comfortably. White linencollar and cuffs and neatly fastened waistband completed her dailycostume. On Sunday Mrs. Hulver was another person. Her silks "stoodalone," as she herself expressed it; and the flowers of her bonnetwould have covered half a market stall had they been real.
Mrs. Hulver stood on the top step under the large portico, her cleanwhite skirt extended with starch, her hands folded and a severeexpression on her face. Ramachetty, the butler, a middle-agedunder-sized native with an apologetic manner, fidgeted behind her inevident discomfort. She addressed him in English over her shoulder.The native tongue was perfectly familiar; it had been her own in hermother's house; but she chose English as being more in keeping with herdignity as a housekeeper and it assisted to maintain her character asan Englishwoman, which she was not.
"Call the gardener," she said, with a clear enunciation and very littleEurasian accent. From her father and two of her husbands she hadpicked up a curious mixture of expressions.
Probably the summons was expected; for the gardener appeared frombehind the bungalow with the abruptness of a jack-in-the-box.
"Tell him to bring the pots of roses here."
Out came a fat forefinger that pointed to the spot and remainedpointing. Ignoring the fact that the gardener understood English thebutler translated the order into the language of the country. The manhurried away, and by the aid of an assistant brought twelve large potsof roses. They were solemnly placed in a row under the portico on thespot to which the finger pointed. Seven of the plants bore double pinkblossoms. The remaining five had crimson flowers of the kind known asthe China rose, a stock upon which the Indian gardener buds the betterclass of plant. There was an ominous silence during which Mrs. Hulverlooked from the roses to the gardener and back again at the roses.Then she spoke.
"Two years ago our missie bought twelve pink _France_ roses with asweet smell. How is it that five of them have turned red and losttheir smell."
The gardener chattered fast in his own tongue. He explained thatduring the absence in England of the master and the missie there hadbeen strange kind of weather. The weather had poisoned the flowers andmade them turn colour and lose their scent. This preposterousstatement was too much for Mrs. Hulver's dignified patience. Sheabandoned her high-class English and let herself go in the nativetongue.
How dared he tell her such a tale! Whoever heard of the weatherchanging the colour of flowers? Was it the rain or the sun? It wasneither; the mischief was done in the night, stoutly maintained thegardener. Then, as she kept an incredulous silence, he askedquerulously, if it was any stranger than that carriages should runalong the road without horses, and messages be sent without messengers.Were the English to be the only wonder-workers? Could not the gods ofIndia----? She cut him short. While he chattered she had framed herline of conduct.
"There is no wonder about the business except that the master keepssuch a budmash on the premises. If the plants had been properlywatered and tended in the master's absence, the weather would not haveaffected them. It is only neglected plants that are affected by badweather." She paused to allow her grey eye to rest upon him; and heshifted uneasily from one foot to the other under her scrutiny. "Doyou hear, gardener? They must be nursed back to their propercondition. There will be a fine of one rupee for each pot. As soon asthey recover, the fine will be returned; but until the twelve rosesbear proper double pink flowers with full, good smell the money will bestopped out of your pay. Each pay-day before giving the wages I shallcome and look at the roses."
The fat finger was withdrawn. Mrs. Hulver turned slowly round andsailed back into the bungalow.
"What were you scolding the gardener for?" asked Eola, after she leftthe breakfast-room and sought the house-keeper to consult with her onthe day's menu.
"I had to talk to him, miss. He has been misbehaving himself while Ihave been away. Five of those _France_ roses that you are so fond ofare missing, and China plants put in their places."
"My beautiful _La France_ roses gone!" cri
ed Eola, with regret. "Isuppose he let them die by neglecting to water and has put others inthe pots thinking we should not discover the loss."
"Not he! the spalpeen! He has changed them--sold the good ones andstolen some common plants to fill up with."
"What did he say for himself when you accused him of it?"
"That's just what I didn't do miss; I took care not to make anyaccusation. As William--that was my second--used to say, 'Think allyou like but keep your thoughts to yourself if you want to get evenwith a bad man.' I kept my thoughts to myself; and when the gardenerhad the impudence to tell me that the weather had turned the roses frompink to red, I said that if he didn't nurse them back to their rightcolour you would fine him. They will all return," she continuedconfidently; "You will have your dozen favourites in a few weeks' time."
Eola was accustomed to Mrs. Hulver's methods of ruling theestablishment, and knew better than to interfere, although she did notapprove of mulcting her servants of their pay.
"Supposing he has sold them; what will you do then?"
"He'll steal them back or buy them back for a small sum. Trust him forfinding out a way to save himself from a big fine such as we shallinsist on! As William--that was my first--used to say (he wascountry-born and knew the native): 'Give them a chance of straighteningthings, and they'll do it as soon as they know that you've found themout; and they will respect you all the more for obliging them to behonest.'"
"If the gardener is dishonest perhaps it would be better to dismiss himand get another."
"Gardeners in these parts go with the houses; and like husbands you'vegot to put up with them. Besides, it is my experience that you maychange and change, whether it's a servant or a husband, and findyourself no better off and no worse off in the end, provided you don'thave extraordinary bad luck. They're as like in their separate ways,both servants and husbands, as the cocoanut trees. The only differenceyou can see in the cocoanut trees is the way they stand. One will leanto one side and another to the other side, and no two will lean justalike. As William--that was my third--(he was born in Ireland) used tosay: 'Maria, me dear! God made us men as we are; and if it weren't forthe trials that we bring ye, ye'd just grow yer wings and fly away; andthen, bedad! where should we poor men be widout ye?' He had a nicepleasant way with him, but it was balanced by his fondness for drink;for _that_ was the way he leaned."
Eola brought the conversation back to the business of the morning andbegan to discuss the lunch and dinner. Ramachetty and the cook werecalled, and the orders for the day given. She sat down at her writingtable and entered the daily marketing account in the book kept for thatpurpose. The butler stood at her elbow on the right and Mrs. Hulvertook up her position on the left. There was never any deviation fromthis little domestic ritual.
The butler proceeded with his list of purchases; firewood, ghee,soup-meat, mutton, potatoes, fish, eggs, naming the price of each.Once Mrs. Hulver coughed, and he corrected himself, taking off half ananna. At another item she moved from one foot to the other, butremained silent. He paused, and as the warning note of the cough wasnot sounded, he passed on to the next entry, letting the overcharge,which was very small, stand.
"Carrots, two annas," he continued.
"Carrots!" ejaculated Mrs. Hulver sharply.
"Carrots, two annas," repeated the butler, sticking manfully to hisstory.
"Fetch them!"
The cook who was waiting behind the butler ran off to the kitchen andreturned with four limp dry roots which he exhibited with manymisgivings.
"Six-day-old carrots," commented Mrs. Hulver, with fine scorn. "Theywere entered in the account last Friday. Cross off 'carrots, twoannas,' please, miss."
The butler accepted the correction without another word, and proceededto the end of his list. Eola would willingly have dispensed with someof the details, but Mrs. Hulver was inexorable.
"It must be done, miss," she had said in reply. "As long as you canhold a pen you must take down the daily account. If by any chance youwere ill then I should be obliged to do it; but Ramachetty and I shallremain better friends if I have nothing to do with the bookkeeping."
"You have something to do with it, Mrs. Hulver. You check his attemptsat cheating."
"I keep them down to reasonable proportions. As William--that was mysecond (he was a very straight-minded man)--used to say: 'Keep othershonest and they'll keep you up to the mark.'"
When the accounts were finished and the butler and cook dismissed, Eolaturned to her housekeeper.
"Mrs. Hulver!" she said.
"Yes, miss."
There was a slight pause, during which Eola turned back again to thewriting-table. The pen was still in her hand and wet with ink. Inabsence of mind she dotted the margin of the account book, her thoughtsfar away.
"Yes, miss," repeated Mrs. Hulver, whose grey eyes searched Eola's face.
"Ah! yes! What was I going to say? Oh! I know. I wanted to tell youthat we have a visitor coming."
Mrs. Hulver was not so easily deceived. Miss Wenaston had notforgotten the subject of her communication, and the news she was aboutto impart was no news to her housekeeper.
"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Hulver, innocently.
"Dr. Wenaston has invited Mr. Alderbury to come and stay here a fewdays. He has business in Chirapore. Will you see to the spare room.I brought out new curtains and chintz to re-cover the sofa and chairs.Set the dirzee to work at once."
"It shall be begun this very day. I was only thinking about ityesterday afternoon when I came in from the town. It's more than amonth since you came back, miss; and those curtains have been lying byever since you unpacked them. As William--that was my first--used tosay (he was a great man for show, being a Eurasian and a good dealdarker than me): 'When you've got fine feathers, don't hide them.'What brought the spare room to my mind was Mr. Alderbury's name. Iheard that it would be likely that he would be coming to Chiraporebefore long."
"Did you?" asked Eola, looking round at her housekeeper in surprise."I suppose you heard it in the bazaar. I don't know how these thingsget about, but in this country nothing is sacred from bazaar gossip.What do they say?"
"The business of the Reverend Mr. Alderbury is connected with Ananda,the son of Pantulu Iyer, a rich native of this town. Perhaps you knowthe story. If so, I'd better be going as there is lots to be done thismorning, and the dirzee is never in the way when he is wanted."
Mrs. Hulver spoke with an injured tone and a misjudged expression onher smooth round olive face. She was an inveterate gossip, and hervisits to the shops and market were prompted as much by curiosity tohear the news as to verify the butler's charges. Nothing hurt her morethan to imply a knowledge of this weakness.
She had a little sitting-room that opened into the back verandah. Thedoor was seldom shut in the daytime. From a point of vantage in thedoorway she superintended the tailor, and kept an eye on all that wenton in the back verandah. She made as though she would seek her roomwith as little delay as possible. Eola, repentant that she had hurther feelings by remarks about the bazaar gossip, softened in her mannerand begged to hear the news.
"Do tell me, Mrs. Hulver, what they say. I have not heard anythingexcept that Mr. Alderbury is coming by the Doctor's invitation. Mybrother only spoke of his visit this morning when he received Mr.Alderbury's reply to the invitation. The Principal was late in gettinghome from his ride, and had to hurry over breakfast to be in College intime."
The housekeeper was mollified and the dirzee forgotten in her eagernessto relate the news that was already thrilling the town.
"The story goes in the bazaar that Pantulu's son has turned Christian,and the whole family is in a great taking about it. They don't knowwhat to do."
"Is that all? There is nothing much in that. Of course it is a goodthing when a native becomes a Christian; but in these days it is not amatter to make a fuss about."
Mrs. Hulver regarded her seriously. She had expected to createsomething
of a sensation by the announcement, but Eola took it as atrifle hardly worth mention.
"Begging your pardon, miss, there is a great deal in it to create afuss; and what is more the whole town is working itself up into aferment over it. They say that they have never had a caste man goChristian before. The Christians have always been pariahs and theyhave no caste to matter. As William--that was my third--used to say:'Change your clothes; change your food; change your house if you like;but to change your religion is the very divil;' and he knew; for he'dbeen a Roman Catholic and he turned Protestant to marry me."
"How did you manage to persuade him?" asked Eola, her mind once moreadrift.
Mrs. Hulver was always ready to talk incidentally of her late spouses.At the same time she never lost sight of the subject that caused thedigression.
"He wanted me to change my religion; but I was firm. I told him thatif he couldn't take me as I was he might go without me. I could get onwithout him. Besides it was only right that he should be the one tochange, being the gentleman; it is the gentleman that ought to give wayto the lady all the world over."
"And he fell in with your suggestion?"
"It was the bit of property that did it, though he didn't admit it,"replied Mrs. Hulver confidently, the shrewdness of her Scotch ancestrypeeping out. "He was drawn to me by two strings, myself for one, andmy little fortune for the other. As William--that was my first, himthat left me the property--used to say: 'It's money that gives you thepull when the balance is even.' But as I was telling you; this son ofPantulu Iyer has gone and changed his religion and stirred up a bees'nest of buzzing in the town."
"Was it Mr. Alderbury's doing?"
"No; he had nothing to say in the matter; it was all done without hisknowledge. Pantulu sent his son to England to finish his education;and while he was there, so the tale goes, he saw a very bad accident.One of these elevators, these flying men," she explained, as she noteda puzzled expression on Eola's face, "fell at his very feet and struckdown his friend, a native gentleman who was walking with him." Alreadythe story had gathered fiction in its passage from mouth to mouth."The elevator was killed on the spot; but the friend had time to make alast request, and it was that Ananda should become a Christian. Henever said a word to his people, but got it done on the quiet andregistered and everything. It gave his father a terrible shock; itnearly killed the poor old gentleman when his son came back and toldhim what had happened. He is a very rich man and would give a crore ofrupees to have the mischief undone. But as William--that was mysecond--used to say: 'Mind your doing, because as a rule there's noundoing.' In this case there can't be any undoing. Once a Christianalways a Christian, unless you want to burn."
"I remember Ananda and his friends in London," said Eola, "I was atthat very meeting and saw the man fall. Coomara was not killed by theaviator, but in a railway accident as he was returning to town."
"Anyway he was killed," replied Mrs. Hulver. "His death affected hisfriend and made him feel so bad that he turned Christian. The pooryoung man is having a very rough time with his people. They aredetermined to knock the Christianity out of him; and it will be apretty stiff fight if he has any spirit. It is said in the bazaar thatMr. Alderbury is coming in from the district to see if he can smoothmatters down a bit. As William--that was my third--used to say: 'Let'shave peace if it's possible; but if it must be war, let's fight to thefinish! and make it a good one!'"
"He didn't practice what he preached; he gave in," remarked Eola,unable to resist poking fun at her devoted housekeeper.
Mrs. Hulver smiled broadly, and was quite ready with her answer.
"You see, miss, there was the lady in the case, meaning me, I can'tdeny but what William, my third, found the change of religiontroublesome. It meant new habits and a new grip of the thing. He wasnever satisfied, and always had the feeling that he had played theturncoat. The trouble was at Christmas time when his weakness overtookhim. His leaning was towards whisky, being an Irishman. It wasexpensive whilst it lasted. As William--that was my second--used tosay (he was a teetotaller): 'One vice will cost more than twentyvirtues.' In his old religion my third used to go to his priest whenthe fit was over, and get square with himself by a proper penance; butwhen he changed he didn't quite know where he was with himself."
"You should have made him give it up altogether," suggested Eola.
"It was born and bred in him, and he couldn't have given it up to savehis life. As William--that was my first--used to say when I complainedof his Eurasian ways: 'You mustn't expect a wild goose to lay a tameegg.' William my third could no more help being weak at Christmas thana child can help over-eating itself."
"Didn't it worry you to have him break out?"
"No, I don't know that it did," replied Mrs. Hulver, placidly. "It hadits advantage. As William--that was my first--used to say when he andhis contractor settled their accounts: 'Everything has its advantage ifyou know where to look for it.'"
"What advantage could your husband's bout of drinking have for you?"asked Eola, glancing at her in mild wonder.
"It gave me my chance of speaking. When he recovered and could listento reason, even though his poor head ached badly, I had the opportunityof letting him have a bit of my mind, and of telling him some hometruths I never could have put before him at any other time. Now withWilliam, my second, it was different. He was always ready to come upto attention at a moment's notice. Stiff and straight, he lived byrule; and the whole time I was with him I never once got the chance ofemptying my mind." Her voice had a distinct ring of regret in it asshe made the confession. "I tried it two or three times; but themoment I began he rose from his chair and drew himself up haughty andproud, just like his colonel when the men came to the orderly room withtheir complaints. He heard what I had to say in a dead silence, thatsort of cooled you down, and all he replied was: 'I'll look into thematter, Maria, and see what can be done;' and there it ended. WithWilliam, my third, it was a real pleasure to rate him. He was such agentleman in his repentance and his apologies. But as I was tellingyou, miss, about this poor young man, Pantulu Iyer's son. I cansympathise with him in his change of religion as I sympathised withWilliam, my third. It will take some time before he will get even withhimself in his new faith."
"The cases are not on all fours, Mrs. Hulver."
"No; they are at sixes and sevens if all I hear is true. AsWilliam--that was my second--used to say: 'Keep things straight andyou'll be master; but let them get at sixes and sevens and they willmaster you.' He made a great study of his fellowmen and was full ofwise sayings. I felt very lonely when he died."
"What did he die of?"
"Microscopes; the doctor said he swallowed some when he was out route"(she called it rowte) "marching. They were in the water that he drankby the roadside. They gave him fever which carried him off in threeweeks, and left me a widow for the second time."
