Now go and change your kit while
Mamma is weeping over "the Missus." (Capt. G. disappears. Capt. M. starts up
tearing his hair.) It's not half legal. Where are the shoes? Get an ayah.
AYAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone band karo all the jutis.
Capt. M. (Brandishing scab larded sword.) Woman, produce those shoes! Some one
lend me a bread-knife. We mustn't crack Gaddy"s head more than it is. (Slices
heel off white satin slipper and puts slipper up his sleeve.)
Where is the Bride? (To the company at large.) Be tender with that rice. It's a
heathen custom. Give me the big bag.
* * * * * *
Bride slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs toward the sunset.
Capt. M. (In the open.) Stole away, by Jove! So much the worse for Gaddy! Here
he is. Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than Amdberan! Where's your horse?
Capt. G. (Furiously, seeing that the women are out of an earshot.) Where the
d -'s my Wife?
Capt. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You'll have to ride like Young
Lochinvar.
Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him.
Capt. G. Oh you will, will you? Get 'round, you brute--you hog--you beast! Get
round!
Wrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lower jaw: swings himself into
saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a spattering gale of Best
Patna.
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