I shouldn't care to go that pace in a bamboo cart. What a
faith he must have in his Maker--of harness! Come hup, you brute! (Gallops off
to parade, blowing his nose, as the sun rises.)
(INTERVAL OF FIVE WEEKS.)
Mrs. G. (Very white and pinched, in morning wrapper at breakfast table.) How
big and strange the room looks, and how glad I am to see it again! What dust,
though! I must talk to the servants. Sugar, Pip? I've almost forgotten.
(Seriously.) Wasn't I very ill?
Capt. G. Iller than I liked. (Tenderly.) Oh, you bad little Pussy, what a start
you gave me!
Mrs. G. I'll never do it again.
Capt. G. You'd better not. And now get those poor pale cheeks pink again, or I
shall be angry. Don't try to lift the urn. You'll upset it. Wait. (Comes round
to head of table and lifts urn.)
Mrs. G. (Quickly.) Khitmatgar, howarchikhana see kettly lao. Butler, get a
kettle from the cook-house. (Drawing down G.'s face to her own.) Pip dear, I
remember.
Capt. G. What?
Mrs. G. That last terrible night.
CAPT. G. Then just you forget all about it.
Mrs. G. (Softly, her eyes filling.) Never. It has brought us very close
together, my husband. There! (Interlude.) I'm going to give Junda a saree.
Capt. G. I gave her fifty dibs.
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