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Perhaps she just looked first into the bouquet, to see whether there was a billet-doux hidden among the flowers; but there was no letter. "Do they talk the language of flowers at Boggley Wollah, Sedley?" asked Osborne, laughing. "Pooh, nonsense!" replied the sentimental youth.
A few plainsmen and Tibetans Boggley pointed out, but most of the crowd were hill-people, jolly little squat men and women hung with silver chains and heavy ear-rings set with turquoises. Their eyes are very black and all puckered with laughing, and they have actually rosy cheeks. They crowded round, trying to sell us curios and lumps of rough turquoise.
It was very interesting to meet all the neighbouring Europeans mostly planters and their wives. There were about twenty people, and everyone very nice. I wish I had time to tell you about them, but I haven't. After polo, which I enjoyed watching, we all had tea together and talked very affably. Then Mr. Royle drove me home while Boggley went with Mrs. Royle. I heard, as we were leaving, Mr.
Will he have changed much, I wonder? There was a letter from him at Colombo, and he hadn't left Darjeeling and had no house to take me to in Calcutta, so it would appear that when I do land my lodging will be the cold ground. It sounds as if he were still the same casual old Boggley. Who began that name? John, I think.
Where did I leave off? The Monday we left Calcutta, wasn't it? To continue. The said Monday was a strenuous day. Boggley absented himself till late afternoon, while I wrestled with wild beasts at Ephesus in the shape of bearers and coolies, my Hindustani deserting me utterly, as it always does at a crisis.
Still declaiming, he picked it up with his toes, caught it with his hand, and gravely put it on again very much on one side. I envied the "mob" their serene calm of countenance. Boggley and I made horrible faces in our efforts to preserve our gravity. The next day Boggley played in a football match with these same boys.
I came to India, of course, in the first place to see Boggley, but in the second place to see the snows, and I can't believe that the gods will be so unkind as to deny a humble worshipper of great mountains a sight of the vision glorious. The other piece of news is quite important. Boggley has got a new billet.
Royle coming back, and the natives carrying someone someone who didn't laugh any more. The odd thing was I didn't seem to mind at all what happened to kind Mrs. Royle. It was Boggley, and only Boggley, that mattered to me. Of course nothing did happen to anyone. It isn't when one expects and dreads it that tragedy comes. Tragedy comes quietly, swiftly.
Boggley is going to have the skins made up into things for me, but it will take about six months to cure them. It is good to think there is one mugger the less. I hate the nasty treacherous beasts. Pretending they are logs, and then eating the poor natives!
Royle say something to Boggley about the horse being young and skittish, and a faint misgiving passed through me, but I forgot it talking to Mr. Royle, and when we reached Rika I went off to dress for dinner, taking it for granted that the others were just behind.
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