Page 1 of Under the Deodars

  UNDER THE DEODARS

  By Rudyard Kipling

  Contents

  The Education of Otis Yeere At the Pit's Mouth A Wayside Comedy The Hill of Illusion A Second-rate Woman Only a Subaltern In the Matter of a Private The Enlightenments of Pagett. M. P.

  UNDER THE DEODARS

  THE EDUCATION OF OTIS YEERE

  I

  In the pleasant orchard-closes 'God bless all our gains,' say we; But 'May God bless all our losses,' Better suits with our degree. The Lost Bower.

  This is the history of a failure; but the woman who failed said that itmight be an instructive tale to put into print for the benefit of theyounger generation. The younger generation does not want instruction,being perfectly willing to instruct if any one will listen to it. Nonethe less, here begins the story where every right-minded story shouldbegin, that is to say at Simla, where all things begin and many come toan evil end.

  The mistake was due to a very clever woman making a blunder and notretrieving it. Men are licensed to stumble, but a clever woman's mistakeis outside the regular course of Nature and Providence; since all goodpeople know that a woman is the only infallible thing in this world,except Government Paper of the '79 issue, bearing interest at four anda half per cent. Yet, we have to remember that six consecutive daysof rehearsing the leading part of The Fallen Angel, at the New GaietyTheatre where the plaster is not yet properly dry, might have broughtabout an unhingement of spirits which, again, might have led toeccentricities.

  Mrs. Hauksbee came to 'The Foundry' to tiffin with Mrs. Mallowe, her onebosom friend, for she was in no sense 'a woman's woman.' And it was awoman's tiffin, the door shut to all the world; and they both talkedchiffons, which is French for Mysteries.

  'I've enjoyed an interval of sanity,' Mrs. Hauksbee announced, aftertiffin was over and the two were comfortably settled in the littlewriting-room that opened out of Mrs. Mallowe's bedroom.

  'My dear girl, what has he done?' said Mrs. Mallowe sweetly. It isnoticeable that ladies of a certain age call each other 'dear girl,'just as commissioners of twenty-eight years' standing address theirequals in the Civil List as 'my boy.'

  'There's no he in the case. Who am I that an imaginary man should bealways credited to me? Am I an Apache?'

  'No, dear, but somebody's scalp is generally drying at your wigwam-door.Soaking rather.'

  This was an allusion to the Hawley Boy, who was in the habit of ridingall across Simla in the Rains, to call on Mrs. Hauksbee. That ladylaughed.

  'For my sins, the Aide at Tyrconnel last night told me off to TheMussuck. Hsh! Don't laugh. One of my most devoted admirers. When theduff came some one really ought to teach them to make puddings atTyrconnel The Mussuck was at liberty to attend to me.'

  'Sweet soul! I know his appetite,' said Mrs. Mallowe. 'Did he, oh didhe, begin his wooing?'

  'By a special mercy of Providence, no. He explained his importance as aPillar of the Empire. I didn't laugh.'

  'Lucy, I don't believe you.'

  'Ask Captain Sangar; he was on the other side. Well, as I was saying,The Mussuck dilated.'

  'I think I can see him doing it,' said Mrs. Mallowe pensively,scratching her fox-terrier's ears.

  'I was properly impressed. Most properly. I yawned openly. "Strictsupervision, and play them off one against the other," said The Mussuck,shovelling down his ice by tureenfuls, I assure you. "That, Mrs.Hauksbee, is the secret of our Government."'

  Mrs. Mallowe laughed long and merrily. 'And what did you say?'

  'Did you ever know me at loss for an answer yet? I said: "So I haveobserved in my dealings with you." The Mussuck swelled with pride. He iscoming to call on me to-morrow. The Hawley Boy is coming too.'

  '"Strict supervision and play them off one against the other. That,Mrs. Hauksbee, is the secret of our Government." And I daresay if wecould get to The Mussuck's heart, we should find that he considershimself a man of the world.'

  'As he is of the other two things. I like The Mussuck, and I won't haveyou call him names. He amuses me.'

  'He has reformed you, too, by what appears. Explain the interval ofsanity, and hit Tim on the nose with the paper-cutter, please. That dogis too fond of sugar. Do you take milk in yours?'

  'No, thanks. Polly, I'm wearied of this life. It's hollow.'

  'Turn religious, then. I always said that Rome would be your fate.'

  'Only exchanging half-a-dozen attaches in red for one in black, and if Ifasted, the wrinkles would come, and never, never go. Has it ever struckyou, dear, that I'm getting old?'

  'Thanks for your courtesy. I'll return it. Ye-es, we are both notexactly how shall I put it?'

  'What we have been. "I feel it in my bones," as Mrs. Crossley says.Polly, I've wasted my life.'

  'As how?'

  'Never mind how. I feel it. I want to be a Power before I die.'

  'Be a Power then. You've wits enough for anything and beauty!'

  Mrs. Hauksbee pointed a teaspoon straight at her hostess. 'Polly, if youheap compliments on me like this, I shall cease to believe that you're awoman. Tell me how I am to be a Power.'

  'Inform The Mussuck that he is the most fascinating and slimmest man inAsia, and he'll tell you anything and everything you please.'

  'Bother The Mussuck! I mean an intellectual Power not a gas-power.Polly, I'm going to start a salon.'

  Mrs. Mallowe turned lazily on the sofa and rested her head on her hand.'Hear the words of the Preacher, the son of Baruch,' she said.

  'Will you talk sensibly?'

  'I will, dear, for I see that you are going to make a mistake.'

  'I never made a mistake in my life at least, never one that I couldn'texplain away afterwards.'

  'Going to make a mistake,' went on Mrs. Mallowe composedly. 'It isimpossible to start a salon in Simla. A bar would be much more to thepoint.'

  'Perhaps, but why? It seems so easy.'

  'Just what makes it so difficult. How many clever women are there inSimla?'

  'Myself and yourself,' said Mrs. Hauksbee, without a moment'shesitation.

  'Modest woman! Mrs. Feardon would thank you for that. And how manyclever men?'

  'Oh er hundreds,' said Mrs. Hauksbee vaguely.

  'What a fatal blunder! Not one. They are all bespoke by the Government.Take my husband, for instance. Jack was a clever man, though I say sowho shouldn't. Government has eaten him up. All his ideas and powers ofconversation he really used to be a good talker, even to his wife in theold days are taken from him by this this kitchen-sink of a Government.That's the case with every man up here who is at work. I don't supposea Russian convict under the knout is able to amuse the rest of his gang;and all our men-folk here are gilded convicts.'

  'But there are scores--'

  'I know what you're going to say. Scores of idle men up on leave. Iadmit it, but they are all of two objectionable sets. The Civilian who'dbe delightful if he had the military man's knowledge of the world andstyle, and the military man who'd be adorable if he had the Civilian'sculture.'

  'Detestable word! Have Civilians culchaw? I never studied the breeddeeply.'

  'Don't make fun of Jack's Service. Yes. They're like the teapoys in theLakka Bazar good material but not polished. They can't help themselves,poor dears. A Civilian only begins to be tolerable after he has knockedabout the world for fifteen years.'

  'And a military man?'

  'When he has had the same amount of service. The young of both speciesare horrible. You would have scores of them in your salon.'

  'I would not!' said Mrs. Hauksbee fiercely.

  'I would tell the bearer to darwaza band them. I'd put their owncolonels and commissioners at the door to turn them away. I'd give themto the
Topsham Girl to play with.'

  'The Topsham Girl would be grateful for the gift. But to go back to thesalon. Allowing that you had gathered all your men and women together,what would you do with them? Make them talk? They would all with oneaccord begin to flirt. Your salon would become a glorified Peliti's a"Scandal Point" by lamplight.'

  'There's a certain amount of wisdom in that view.'

  'There's all the wisdom in the world in it. Surely, twelve Simla seasonsought to have taught you that you can't focus anything in India; anda salon, to be any good at all, must be permanent. In two seasons yourroomful would be scattered all over Asia. We are only little bits ofdirt on the hillsides here one day and blown down the road the next. Wehave lost the art of talking at least our men have. We have no cohesion.'

  'George Eliot in the flesh,' interpolated Mrs. Hauksbee wickedly.

  'And collectively, my dear scoffer, we, men and women alike, have noinfluence. Come into the verandah and look at the Mall!'

  The two looked down on the now rapidly filling road, for all Simla wasabroad to steal a stroll between a shower and a fog.

  'How do you propose to fix that river? Look! There's The Mussuck head ofgoodness knows what. He is a power in the land, though he does eat likea costermonger. There's Colonel Blone, and General Grucher, and SirDugald Delane, and Sir Henry Haughton, and Mr. Jellalatty. All Heads ofDepartments, and all powerful.'

  'And all my fervent admirers,' said Mrs. Hauksbee piously. 'Sir HenryHaughton raves about me. But go on.'

  'One by one, these men are worth something. Collectively, they're justa mob of Anglo-Indians. Who cares for what Anglo-Indians say? Your salonwon't weld the Departments together and make you mistress of India,dear. And these creatures won't talk administrative "shop" in a crowdyour salon because they are so afraid of the men in the lower ranksoverhearing it. They have forgotten what of Literature and Art they everknew, and the women--'

  'Can't talk about anything except the last Gymkhana, or the sins oftheir last nurse. I was calling on Mrs. Derwills this morning.'

  'You admit that? They can talk to the subalterns though, and thesubalterns can talk to them. Your salon would suit their viewsadmirably, if you respected the religious prejudices of the country andprovided plenty of kala juggahs.'

  'Plenty of kala juggahs. Oh my poor little idea! Kala juggahs in asalon! But who made you so awfully clever?'

  'Perhaps I've tried myself; or perhaps I know a woman who has. I havepreached and expounded the whole matter and the conclusion thereof.'

  'You needn't go on. "Is Vanity." Polly, I thank you. These vermin' Mrs.Hauksbee waved her hand from the verandah to two men in the crowd belowwho had raised their hats to her 'these vermin shall not rejoice in anew Scandal Point or an extra Peliti's. I will abandon the notion of asalon. It did seem so tempting, though. But what shall I do? I must dosomething.'

  'Why? Are not Abana and Pharpar.'

  'Jack has made you nearly as bad as himself! I want to, of course. I'mtired of everything and everybody, from a moonlight picnic at Seepee tothe blandishments of The Mussuck.'

  'Yes that comes, too, sooner or later. Have you nerve enough to makeyour bow yet?'

  Mrs. Hauksbee's mouth shut grimly. Then she laughed. 'I think I seemyself doing it. Big pink placards on the Mall: "Mrs. Hauksbee!Positively her last appearance on any stage! This is to give notice!" Nomore dances; no more rides; no more luncheons; no more theatricals withsupper to follow; no more sparring with one's dearest, dearest friend;no more fencing with an inconvenient man who hasn't wit enough to clothewhat he's pleased to call his sentiments in passable speech; no moreparading of The Mussuck while Mrs. Tarkass calls all round Simla,spreading horrible stories about me! No more of anything that isthoroughly wearying, abominable, and detestable, but, all the same,makes life worth the having. Yes! I see it all! Don't interrupt, Polly,I'm inspired. A mauve and white striped "cloud" round my excellentshoulders, a seat in the fifth row of the Gaiety, and both horses sold.Delightful vision! A comfortable arm-chair, situated in three differentdraughts, at every ball-room; and nice, large, sensible shoes forall the couples to stumble over as they go into the verandah! Then atsupper. Can't you imagine the scene? The greedy mob gone away. Reluctantsubaltern, pink all over like a newly-powdered baby, they really oughtto tan subalterns before they are exported, Polly, sent back by thehostess to do his duty. Slouches up to me across the room, tugging ata glove two sizes too large for him I hate a man who wears gloves likeovercoats and trying to look as if he'd thought of it from the first."May I ah-have the pleasure 'f takin' you 'nt' supper?" Then I get upwith a hungry smile. Just like this.'

  'Lucy, how can you be so absurd?'

  'And sweep out on his arm. So! After supper I shall go away early, youknow, because I shall be afraid of catching cold. No one will look formy 'rickshaw. Mine, so please you! I shall stand, always with that mauveand white "cloud" over my head, while the wet soaks into my dear, old,venerable feet, and Tom swears and shouts for the mem-sahib's gharri.Then home to bed at half-past eleven! Truly excellent life helped outby the visits of the Padri, just fresh from burying somebody down belowthere.' She pointed through the pines toward the Cemetery, and continuedwith vigorous dramatic gesture,

  'Listen! I see it all down, down even to the stays! Such stays!Six-eight a pair, Polly, with red flannel or list, is it? that theyput into the tops of those fearful things. I can draw you a picture ofthem.'

  'Lucy, for Heaven's sake, don't go waving your arms about in thatidiotic manner! Recollect every one can see you from the Mall.'

  'Let them see! They'll think I am rehearsing for The Fallen Angel. Look!There's The Mussuck. How badly he rides. There!'

  She blew a kiss to the venerable Indian administrator with infinitegrace.

  'Now,' she continued, 'he'll be chaffed about that at the Club in thedelicate manner those brutes of men affect, and the Hawley Boy will tellme all about it softening the details for fear of shocking me. That boyis too good to live, Polly. I've serious thoughts of recommending him tothrow up his commission and go into the Church. In his present frame ofmind he would obey me. Happy, happy child!'

  'Never again,' said Mrs. Mallowe, with an affectation of indignation,'shall you tiffin here! "Lucindy your behaviour is scand'lus."'

  'All your fault,' retorted Mrs. Hauksbee, 'for suggesting such a thingas my abdication. No! jamais! nevaire! I will act, dance, ride, frivol,talk scandal, dine out, and appropriate the legitimate captives of anywoman I choose, until I d-r-r-rop, or a better woman than I puts me toshame before all Simla, and it's dust and ashes in my mouth while I'mdoing it!'

  She swept into the drawing-room. Mrs. Mallowe followed and put an armround her waist.

  'I'm not!' said Mrs. Hauksbee defiantly, rummaging for her handkerchief.'I've been dining out the last ten nights, and rehearsing in theafternoon. You'd be tired yourself. It's only because I'm tired.'

  Mrs. Mallowe did not offer Mrs. Hauksbee any pity or ask her to liedown, but gave her another cup of tea, and went on with the talk.

  'I've been through that too, dear,' she said.

  'I remember,' said Mrs. Hauksbee, a gleam of fun on her face. 'In '84,wasn't it? You went out a great deal less next season.'

  Mrs. Mallowe smiled in a superior and Sphinx-like fashion.

  'I became an Influence,' said she.

  'Good gracious, child, you didn't join the Theosophists and kissBuddha's big toe, did you? I tried to get into their set once, but theycast me out for a sceptic without a chance of improving my poor littlemind, too.'

  'No, I didn't Theosophilander. Jack says--'

  'Never mind Jack. What a husband says is known before. What did you do?'

  'I made a lasting impression.'

  'So have I for four months. But that didn't console me in the least. Ihated the man. Will you stop smiling in that inscrutable way and tell mewhat you mean?'

  Mrs. Mallowe told.

  'And you mean to say that it is absolutely Platonic on both sides?'
>
  'Absolutely, or I should never have taken it up.'

  'And his last promotion was due to you?'

  Mrs. Mallowe nodded.

  'And you warned him against the Topsham Girl?'

  Another nod.

  'And told him of Sir Dugald Delane's private memo about him?'

  A third nod.

  'Why?'

  'What a question to ask a woman! Because it amused me at first. I amproud of my property now. If I live, he shall continue to be successful.Yes, I will put him upon the straight road to Knighthood, and everythingelse that a man values. The rest depends upon himself.'

  'Polly, you are a most extraordinary woman.'

  'Not in the least. I'm concentrated, that's all. You diffuse yourself,dear; and though all Simla knows your skill in managing a team.'

  'Can't you choose a prettier word?'

  'Team, of half-a-dozen, from The Mussuck to the Hawley Boy, you gainnothing by it. Not even amusement.'

  'And you?'

  'Try my recipe. Take a man, not a boy, mind, but an almost mature,unattached man, and be his guide, philosopher, and friend. You'll findit the most interesting occupation that you ever embarked on. It can bedone you needn't look like that because I've done it.'

  'There's an element of risk about it that makes the notion attractive.I'll get such a man and say to him, "Now, understand that there must beno flirtation. Do exactly what I tell you, profit by my instruction andcounsels, and all will yet be well." Is that the idea?'

  'More or less,' said Mrs. Mallowe, with an unfathomable smile. 'But besure he understands.'

  II

  Dribble-dribble trickle-trickle What a lot of raw dust! My dollie's had an accident And out came all the sawdust!

  Nursery Rhyme.

  So Mrs. Hauksbee, in 'The Foundry' which overlooks Simla Mall, sat atthe feet of Mrs. Mallowe and gathered wisdom. The end of the Conferencewas the Great Idea upon which Mrs. Hauksbee so plumed herself.

  'I warn you,' said Mrs. Mallowe, beginning to repent of her suggestion,'that the matter is not half so easy as it looks. Any woman even theTopsham Girl can catch a man, but very, very few know how to manage himwhen caught.'

  'My child,' was the answer, 'I've been a female St. Simon Styliteslooking down upon men for these these years past. Ask The Mussuckwhether I can manage them.'

  Mrs. Hauksbee departed humming, 'I'll go to him and say to him in mannermost ironical.' Mrs. Mallowe laughed to herself. Then she grew suddenlysober. 'I wonder whether I've done well in advising that amusement?Lucy's a clever woman, but a thought too careless.'

  A week later the two met at a Monday Pop. 'Well?' said Mrs. Mallowe.

  'I've caught him!' said Mrs. Hauksbee: her eyes were dancing withmerriment.

  'Who is it, mad woman? I'm sorry I ever spoke to you about it.'

  'Look between the pillars. In the third row; fourth from the end. Youcan see his face now. Look!'

  'Otis Yeere! Of all the improbable and impossible people! I don'tbelieve you.'

  'Hsh! Wait till Mrs. Tarkass begins murdering Milton Wellings; and I'lltell you all about it. S-s-ss! That woman's voice always reminds me ofan Underground train coming into Earl's Court with the brakes on. Nowlisten. It is really Otis Yeere.'

  'So I see, but does it follow that he is your property!'

  'He is! By right of trove. I found him, lonely and unbefriended, thevery next night after our talk, at the Dugald Delanes' burra-khana. Iliked his eyes, and I talked to him. Next day he called. Next day wewent for a ride together, and to-day he's tied to my 'richshaw-wheelshand and foot. You'll see when the concert's over. He doesn't know I'mhere yet.'

  'Thank goodness you haven't chosen a boy. What are you going to do withhim, assuming that you've got him?'

  'Assuming, indeed! Does a woman do I ever make a mistake in that sort ofthing? First' Mrs. Hauksbee ticked off the items ostentatiously on herlittle gloved fingers 'First, my dear, I shall dress him properly. Atpresent his raiment is a disgrace, and he wears a dress-shirt likea crumpled sheet of the Pioneer. Secondly, after I have made himpresentable, I shall form his manners his morals are above reproach.'

  'You seem to have discovered a great deal about him considering theshortness of your acquaintance.'

  'Surely you ought to know that the first proof a man gives of hisinterest in a woman is by talking to her about his own sweet self.If the woman listens without yawning, he begins to like her. If sheflatters the animal's vanity, he ends by adoring her.'

  'In some cases.'

  'Never mind the exceptions. I know which one you are thinking of.Thirdly, and lastly, after he is polished and made pretty, I shall, asyou said, be his guide, philosopher, and friend, and he shall become asuccess as great a success as your friend. I always wondered howthat man got on. Did The Mussuck come to you with the Civil List and,dropping on one knee no, two knees, a la Gibbon hand it to you and say,"Adorable angel, choose your friend's appointment"?'

  'Lucy, your long experiences of the Military Department have demoralisedyou. One doesn't do that sort of thing on the Civil Side.'

  'No disrespect meant to Jack's Service, my dear. I only asked forinformation. Give me three months, and see what changes I shall work inmy prey.'

  'Go your own way since you must. But I'm sorry that I was weak enough tosuggest the amusement.'

  '"I am all discretion, and may be trusted to an in-fin-ite extent,"'quoted Mrs. Hauksbee from The Fallen Angel; and the conversation ceasedwith Mrs. Tarkass's last, long-drawn war-whoop.

  Her bitterest enemies and she had many could hardly accuse Mrs. Hauksbeeof wasting her time. Otis Yeere was one of those wandering 'dumb'characters, foredoomed through life to be nobody's property. Ten yearsin Her Majesty's Bengal Civil Service, spent, for the most part, inundesirable Districts, had given him little to be proud of, and nothingto bring confidence. Old enough to have lost the first fine carelessrapture that showers on the immature 'Stunt imaginary Commissionershipsand Stars, and sends him into the collar with coltish earnestness andabandon; too young to be yet able to look back upon the progress he hadmade, and thank Providence that under the conditions of the day he hadcome even so far, he stood upon the dead-centre of his career. And whena man stands still he feels the slightest impulse from without. Fortunehad ruled that Otis Yeere should be, for the first part of his service,one of the rank and file who are ground up in the wheels of theAdministration; losing heart and soul, and mind and strength, in theprocess. Until steam replaces manual power in the working of the Empire,there must always be this percentage must always be the men who are usedup, expended, in the mere mechanical routine. For these promotion is faroff and the mill-grind of every day very instant. The Secretariats knowthem only by name; they are not the picked men of the Districts withDivisions and Collectorates awaiting them. They are simply the rank andfile the food for fever sharing with the ryot and the plough-bullock thehonour of being the plinth on which the State rests. The older oneshave lost their aspirations; the younger are putting theirs aside witha sigh. Both learn to endure patiently until the end of the day. Twelveyears in the rank and file, men say, will sap the hearts of the bravestand dull the wits of the most keen.

  Out of this life Otis Yeere had fled for a few months; drifting, in thehope of a little masculine society, into Simla. When his leave was overhe would return to his swampy, sour-green, under-manned Bengal district;to the native Assistant, the native Doctor, the native Magistrate, thesteaming, sweltering Station, the ill-kempt City, and the undisguisedinsolence of the Municipality that babbled away the lives of men. Lifewas cheap, however. The soil spawned humanity, as it bred frogs inthe Rains, and the gap of the sickness of one season was filled tooverflowing by the fecundity of the next. Otis was unfeignedly thankfulto lay down his work for a little while and escape from the seething,whining, weakly hive, impotent to help itself, but strong in its powerto cripple, thwart, and annoy the sunkeneyed man who, by official irony,was said to be 'in charge' of it.

/>   'I knew there were women-dowdies in Bengal. They come up here sometimes.But I didn't know that there were men-dowds, too.'

  Then, for the first time, it occurred to Otis Yeere that his clotheswore rather the mark of the ages. It will be seen that his friendshipwith Mrs. Hauksbee had made great strides.

  As that lady truthfully says, a man is never so happy as when he istalking about himself. From Otis Yeere's lips Mrs. Hauksbee, beforelong, learned everything that she wished to know about the subjectof her experiment: learned what manner of life he had led in what shevaguely called 'those awful cholera districts'; learned, too, but thisknowledge came later, what manner of life he had purposed to lead andwhat dreams he had dreamed in the year of grace '77, before thereality had knocked the heart out of him. Very pleasant are the shadybridle-paths round Prospect Hill for the telling of such confidences.

  'Not yet,' said Mrs. Hauksbee to Mrs. Maliowe. 'Not yet. I must waituntil the man is properly dressed, at least. Great heavens, is itpossible that he doesn't know what an honour it is to be taken up byMe!'

  Mrs. Hauksbee did not reckon false modesty as one of her failings.

  'Always with Mrs. Hauksbee!' murmured Mrs. Mallowe, with her sweetestsmile, to Otis. 'Oh you men, you men! Here are our Punjabis growlingbecause you've monopolised the nicest woman in Simla. They'll tear youto pieces on the Mall, some day, Mr. Yeere.'

  Mrs. Mallowe rattled downhill, having satisfied herself, by a glancethrough the fringe of her sunshade, of the effect of her words.

  The shot went home. Of a surety Otis Yeere was somebody in thisbewildering whirl of Simla had monopolised the nicest woman in it, andthe Punjabis were growling. The notion justified a mild glow of vanity.He had never looked upon his acquaintance with Mrs. Hauksbee as a matterfor general interest.

  The knowledge of envy was a pleasant feeling to the man of no account.It was intensified later in the day when a luncher at the Club saidspitefully, 'Well, for a debilitated Ditcher, Yeere, you are going it.Hasn't any kind friend told you that she's the most dangerous woman inSimla?'

  Yeere chuckled and passed out. When, oh, when would his new clothes beready? He descended into the Mall to inquire; and Mrs. Hauksbee,coming over the Church Ridge in her 'rickshaw, looked down upon himapprovingly. 'He's learning to carry himself as if he were a man,instead of a piece of furniture, and,' she screwed up her eyes to seethe better through the sunlight 'he is a man when he holds himself likethat. O blessed Conceit, what should we be without you?'

  With the new clothes came a new stock of self-confidence. Otis Yeerediscovered that he could enter a room without breaking into a gentleperspiration could cross one, even to talk to Mrs. Hauksbee, as thoughrooms were meant to be crossed. He was for the first time in nine yearsproud of himself, and contented with his life, satisfied with his newclothes, and rejoicing in the friendship of Mrs. Hauksbee.

  'Conceit is what the poor fellow wants,' she said in confidence to Mrs.Mallowe. 'I believe they must use Civilians to plough the fields with inLower Bengal. You see I have to begin from the very beginning haven't I?But you'll admit, won't you, dear, that he is immensely improved sinceI took him in hand. Only give me a little more time and he won't knowhimself.'

  Indeed, Yeere was rapidly beginning to forget what he had been. One ofhis own rank and file put the matter brutally when he asked Yeere, inreference to nothing, 'And who has been making you a Member of Council,lately? You carry the side of half-a-dozen of 'em.'

  'I I'm awf'ly sorry. I didn't mean it, you know,' said Yeereapologetically.

  'There'll be no holding you,' continued the old stager grimly. 'Climbdown, Otis climb down, and get all that beastly affectation knocked outof you with fever! Three thousand a month wouldn't support it.'

  Yeere repeated the incident to Mrs. Hauksbee. He had come to look uponher as his Mother Confessor.

  'And you apologised!' she said. 'Oh, shame! I hate a man who apologises.Never apologise for what your friend called "side." Never! It's a man'sbusiness to be insolent and overbearing until he meets with a stronger.Now, you bad boy, listen to me.'

  Simply and straightforwardly, as the 'rickshaw loitered round Jakko,Mrs. Hauksbee preached to Otis Yeere the Great Gospel of Conceit,illustrating it with living pictures encountered during their Sundayafternoon stroll.

  'Good gracious!' she ended with the personal argument, 'you'll apologisenext for being my attache--'

  'Never!' said Otis Yeere. 'That's another thing altogether. I shallalways be.'

  'What's coming?' thought Mrs. Hauksbee.

  'Proud of that,' said Otis.

  'Safe for the present,' she said to herself.

  'But I'm afraid I have grown conceited. Like Jeshurun, you know. Whenhe waxed fat, then he kicked. It's the having no worry on one's mind andthe Hill air, I suppose.'

  'Hill air, indeed!' said Mrs. Hauksbee to herself. 'He'd have beenhiding in the Club till the last day of his leave, if I hadn'tdiscovered him.' And aloud,

  'Why shouldn't you be? You have every right to.'

  'I! Why?'

  'Oh, hundreds of things. I'm not going to waste this lovely afternoonby explaining; but I know you have. What was that heap of manuscript youshowed me about the grammar of the aboriginal what's their names?'

  'Gullals. A piece of nonsense. I've far too much work to do to botherover Gullals now. You should see my District. Come down with yourhusband some day and I'll show you round. Such a lovely place in theRains! A sheet of water with the railway-embankment and the snakessticking out, and, in the summer, green flies and green squash. Thepeople would die of fear if you shook a dogwhip at 'em. But they knowyou're forbidden to do that, so they conspire to make your life a burdento you. My District's worked by some man at Darjiling, on the strengthof a native pleader's false reports. Oh, it's a heavenly place!'

  Otis Yeere laughed bitterly.

  'There's not the least necessity that you should stay in it. Why doyou?'

  'Because I must. How'm I to get out of it?'

  'How! In a hundred and fifty ways. If there weren't so many people onthe road I'd like to box your ears. Ask, my dear boy, ask! Look! Thereis young Hexarly with six years' service and half your talents. He askedfor what he wanted, and he got it. See, down by the Convent! There'sMcArthurson, who has come to his present position by asking sheer,downright asking after he had pushed himself out of the rank and file.One man is as good as another in your service believe me. I've seenSimla for more seasons than I care to think about. Do you suppose menare chosen for appointments because of their special fitness beforehand?You have all passed a high test what do you call it? in the beginning,and, except for the few who have gone altogether to the bad, you can allwork hard. Asking does the rest. Call it cheek, call it insolence, callit anything you like, but ask! Men argue yes, I know what men say that aman, by the mere audacity of his request, must have some good in him. Aweak man doesn't say: "Give me this and that." He whines: "Why haven'tI been given this and that?" If you were in the Army, I should say learnto spin plates or play a tambourine with your toes. As it is ask! Youbelong to a Service that ought to be able to command the Channel Fleet,or set a leg at twenty minutes' notice, and yet you hesitate over askingto escape from a squashy green district where you admit you are notmaster. Drop the Bengal Government altogether. Even Darjiling isa little out-of-the-way hole. I was there once, and the rents wereextortionate. Assert yourself. Get the Government of India to take youover. Try to get on the Frontier, where every man has a grand chanceif he can trust himself. Go somewhere! Do something! You have twice thewits and three times the presence of the men up here, and, and' Mrs.Hauksbee paused for breath; then continued 'and in any way you look atit, you ought to. You who could go so far!'

  'I don't know,' said Yeere, rather taken aback by the unexpectedeloquence. 'I haven't such a good opinion of myself.'

  It was not strictly Platonic, but it was Policy. Mrs. Hauksbee laidher hand lightly upon the ungloved paw that rested on the turned-back'rickshaw hood, and, looking the man
full in the face, said tenderly,almost too tenderly, 'I believe in you if you mistrust yourself. Is thatenough, my friend?'

  'It is enough,' answered Otis very solemnly.

  He was silent for a long time, redreaming the dreams that he had dreamedeight years ago, but through them all ran, as sheet-lightning throughgolden cloud, the light of Mrs. Hauksbee's violet eyes.

  Curious and impenetrable are the mazes of Simla life the only existencein this desolate land worth the living. Gradually it went abroad amongmen and women, in the pauses between dance, play, and Gymkhana, thatOtis Yeere, the man with the newly-lit light of self-confidence in hiseyes, had 'done something decent' in the wilds whence he came. He hadbrought an erring Municipality to reason, appropriated the funds on hisown responsibility, and saved the lives of hundreds. He knew more aboutthe Gullals than any living man. Had a vast knowledge of the aboriginaltribes; was, in spite of his juniority, the greatest authority on theaboriginal Gullals. No one quite knew who or what the Gullals were tillThe Mussuck, who had been calling on Mrs. Hauksbee, and prided himselfupon picking people's brains, explained they were a tribe of ferocioushillmen, somewhere near Sikkim, whose friendship even the Great IndianEmpire would find it worth her while to secure. Now we know that OtisYeere had showed Mrs. Hauksbee his MS. notes of six years' standing onthese same Gullals. He had told her, too, how, sick and shaken with thefever their negligence had bred, crippled by the loss of his pet clerk,and savagely angry at the desolation in his charge, he had once damnedthe collective eyes of his 'intelligent local board' for a set ofharamzadas. Which act of 'brutal and tyrannous oppression' won hima Reprimand Royal from the Bengal Government; but in the anecdote asamended for Northern consumption we find no record of this. Hence we areforced to conclude that Mrs. Hauksbee edited his reminiscences beforesowing them in idle ears, ready, as she well knew, to exaggerate good orevil. And Otis Yeere bore himself as befitted the hero of many tales.

  'You can talk to me when you don't fall into a brown study. Talk now,and talk your brightest and best,' said Mrs. Hauksbee.

  Otis needed no spur. Look to a man who has the counsel of a woman of orabove the world to back him. So long as he keeps his head, he can meetboth sexes on equal ground an advantage never intended by Providence,who fashioned Man on one day and Woman on another, in sign that neithershould know more than a very little of the other's life. Such a man goesfar, or, the counsel being withdrawn, collapses suddenly while his worldseeks the reason.

  Generalled by Mrs. Hauksbee, who, again, had all Mrs. Mallowe's wisdomat her disposal, proud of himself and, in the end, believing in himselfbecause he was believed in, Otis Yeere stood ready for any fortune thatmight befall, certain that it would be good. He would fight for his ownhand, and intended that this second struggle should lead to better issuethan the first helpless surrender of the bewildered 'Stunt.

  What might have happened it is impossible to say. This lamentable thingbefell, bred directly by a statement of Mrs. Hauksbee that she wouldspend the next season in Darjiling.

  'Are you certain of that?' said Otis Yeere.

  'Quite. We're writing about a house now.'

  Otis Yeere 'stopped dead,' as Mrs. Hauksbee put it in discussing therelapse with Mrs. Mallowe.

  'He has behaved,' she said angrily, 'just like Captain Kerrington's ponyonly Otis is a donkey at the last Gymkhana. Planted his forefeet andrefused to go on another step. Polly, my man's going to disappoint me.What shall I do?'

  As a rule, Mrs. Mallowe does not approve of staring, but on thisoccasion she opened her eyes to the utmost.

  'You have managed cleverly so far,'she said. 'Speak to him, and ask himwhat he means.'

  'I will at to-night's dance.'

  'No o, not at a dance,' said Mrs. Mallowe cautiously. 'Men are neverthemselves quite at dances. Better wait till to-morrow morning.'

  'Nonsense. If he's going to 'vert in this insane way there isn't a dayto lose. Are you going? No? Then sit up for me, there's a dear. I shan'tstay longer than supper under any circumstances.'

  Mrs. Mallowe waited through the evening, looking long and earnestly intothe fire, and sometimes smiling to herself.

  'Oh! oh! oh! The man's an idiot! A raving, positive idiot! I'm sorry Iever saw him!'

  Mrs. Hauksbee burst into Mrs. Mallowe's house, at midnight, almost intears.

  'What in the world has happened?' said Mrs. Mallowe, but her eyes showedthat she had guessed an answer.

  'Happened! Everything has happened! He was there. I went to him andsaid, "Now, what does this nonsense mean?" Don't laugh, dear, I can'tbear it. But you know what I mean I said. Then it was a square, and Isat it out with him and wanted an explanation, and he said Oh! I haven'tpatience with such idiots! You know what I said about going to Darjilingnext year? It doesn't matter to me where I go. I'd have changed theStation and lost the rent to have saved this. He said, in so many words,that he wasn't going to try to work up any more, because because hewould be shifted into a province away from Darjiling, and his ownDistrict, where these creatures are, is within a day's journey.'

  'Ah hh!' said Mrs. Mallowe, in a tone of one who has successfullytracked an obscure word through a large dictionary.

  'Did you ever hear of anything so mad so absurd? And he had the ballat his feet. He had only to kick it! I would have made him anything!Anything in the wide world. He could have gone to the world's end. Iwould have helped him. I made him, didn't I, Polly? Didn't I createthat man? Doesn't he owe everything to me? And to reward me, just wheneverything was nicely arranged, by this lunacy that spoilt everything!'

  'Very few men understand your devotion thoroughly.'

  'Oh, Polly, don't laugh at me! I give men up from this hour. I couldhave killed him then and there. What right had this man this Thing I hadpicked out of his filthy paddy--fields to make love to me?'

  'He did that, did he?'

  'He did. I don't remember half he said, I was so angry. Oh, but sucha funny thing happened! I can't help laughing at it now, though I feltnearly ready to cry with rage. He raved and I stormed I'm afraid we musthave made an awful noise in our kala juggah. Protect my character, dear,if it's all over Simla by to-morrow and then he bobbed forward in themiddle of this insanity I firmly believe the man's demented and kissedme.'

  'Morals above reproach,' purred Mrs. Mallowe.

  'So they were so they are! It was the most absurd kiss. I don't believehe'd ever kissed a woman in his life before. I threw my head back, andit was a sort of slidy, pecking dab, just on the end of the chin here.'Mrs. Hauksbee tapped her masculine little chin with her fan. 'Then, ofcourse, I was furiously angry, and told him that he was no gentleman,and I was sorry I'd ever met him, and so on. He was crushed so easilythen I couldn't be very angry. Then I came away straight to you.'

  'Was this before or after supper?'

  'Oh! before oceans before. Isn't it perfectly disgusting?'

  'Let me think. I withhold judgment till tomorrow. Morning bringscounsel.'

  But morning brought only a servant with a dainty bouquet of Annandaleroses for Mrs. Hauksbee to wear at the dance at Viceregal Lodge thatnight.

  'He doesn't seem to be very penitent,' said Mrs. Mallowe. 'What's thebillet-doux in the centre?'

  Mrs. Hauksbee opened the neatly-folded note, another accomplishment thatshe had taught Otis, read it, and groaned tragically.

  'Last wreck of a feeble intellect! Poetry! Is it his own, do you think?Oh, that I ever built my hopes on such a maudlin idiot!'

  'No. It's a quotation from Mrs. Browning, and in view of the facts ofthe case, as Jack says, uncommonly well chosen. Listen

  Sweet, thou hast trod on a heart, Pass! There's a world full of men; And women as fair as thou art Must do such things now and then. Thou only hast stepped unaware Malice not one can impute; And why should a heart have been there, In the way of a fair woman's foot?

  'I didn't I didn't I didn't!' said Mrs. Hauksbee angrily, hereyes filling with tears; 'there was no malice
at all. Oh, it's toovexatious!'

  'You've misunderstood the compliment,' said Mrs. Mallowe. 'He clearsyou completely and ahem I should think by this, that he has clearedcompletely too. My experience of men is that when they begin to quotepoetry they are going to flit. Like swans singing before they die, youknow.'

  'Polly, you take my sorrows in a most unfeeling way.'

  'Do I? Is it so terrible? If he's hurt your vanity, I should say thatyou've done a certain amount of damage to his heart.'

  'Oh, you can never tell about a man!' said Mrs. Hauksbee.