As Mrs. Soames and I moved towards our victoria, escorted by Captain Falkland, Ronnie took a few steps towards us, but his companion stood stock-still, and looked at me as blankly as if he had never seen me before. Then one of his thick black lashes quivered slightly. Yes, it was an unmistakable wink!
As our carriage wheeled about to thread its way among a crowd of other vehicles I beheld Mrs. Wolfe "descend upon the fold." She seized the helpless A.D.C. and carried him off in triumph to the _morghi-khana_.
The next afternoon Mrs. Soames and I drove up to the polo ground to witness a match, in which Ronnie greatly distinguished himself. He was captain of the regimental team, rode splendidly, and was remarkably well mounted. I could see that he was an important factor in the local polo world. I noticed Mrs. Lakin in a dreadful old phaeton, drawn by a bony chestnut horse. As she caught sight of us she waved her hand with effusion.
"Isn't she a funny old thing?" said Mrs. Soames. "She lives down at Begumpett, where her husband commands a regiment, and she dresses like a caretaker, but is such a good, generous woman, so kind to the natives, Eurasians, and poor whites. She spends on others--saves on herself. To my certain knowledge she has had that toque ever since I came to the station. If anyone is ill, it's Mrs. Lakin to the front; if anyone is in trouble, they turn to Mrs. Lakin. Her husband is a smart, well-set-up man, and looks years younger than his dowdy wife. Their bungalow is on the style of forty years ago, quite a curiosity. They have queer old furniture and Argand lamps, but give capital dinners in the good solid style; everything in the most lavish profusion. Masses of servants, dozens of courses, wonderful curries, and such tender mutton! She is the secretary of our Mutton Club. It is really an historical object lesson to dine with the Lakins, and to learn how things were done--say at the time of the battle of Plassey."
"I wish she would invite me to dinner," I replied. "She is a nice, confidential, motherly old thing, adores India, and cannot endure the idea of leaving the country."
"No, I dare say not," said Mrs. Soames; "all her children were born and most of her relations are buried out here. Her sons and daughters are scattered about this Presidency. I don't suppose she has anyone belonging to her at home, and would be rather at a loose end in Bayswater or West Kensington."