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Anyway, G. and I were never intended to be missionaries. We drove home very silent, in the only vehicle procurable, a third-class tikka-gharry, feeling as if all the varied smells of the East were lying heavy on our chests. Once G. said gloomily, "How long does typhoid fever take to come out?" which made me laugh weakly most of the way home. 13th.
Radical M.P.s of course will learn "please" at once, if there is such a word in the language, which I doubt. One nice globe-trotting old lady, anxious, like me, to conciliate the natives, was having a cup of chocolate at Peliti's, and she insisted on sending out to see if the tikka-gharry wallah would like a cup! A tikka-gharry is a thing like a victoria, hired by the hour.
"Tell me not the good and wise Care not where their dust reposes. That to him who sleeping lies Desert rocks shall seem as roses. I've been happy above ground, I could ne'er be happy under, Out of Teviot's gentle sound. Part us, then, not far asunder." Yesterday I saw a pathetic sight. A couple in a tikka-gharry; the man a soldier, a Gordon Highlander, and on the front seat a tiny coffin.
They have bags of provender for the horses tied behind the conveyance, where also precariously hangs another man who might be the twin-brother of the driver. I don't know why he is there, but there he is. G. and I love to set out in a tikka-gharry and practise our Hindustani.
You must know that in India the new arrival does not sit and wait to be called on, she up and calls first. It is quite simple. You call your carriage or, if you haven't aspired to a carriage, the humble, useful tikka-gharry and drive away to the first house on the list, where you ask the durwan at the gate for bokkus.
He talked, I noticed, very little during dinner, but the men were unusually long in joining us afterwards, and as Boggley clambered after me into the tikka-gharry that was to take us home: "That's a ripping fellow!" said Boggley. Another illusion shattered! I hasten to set your mind at rest on one point. I have a chaperon, and a very nice, though entirely unnecessary, one. Her name is Mrs.
I have always been asking where are the Missionaries, but I suppose I must have asked the wrong people, for they didn't seem to know. However, the other day I met a lady, Mrs. Gardner, the wife of a missionary, who asked us to go to lunch with her, and promised she would show us something of the work among the women. So on Friday we set off in a tikka-gharry.
G. came to tea and suggested that afterwards we should go for a drive in a tikka-gharry, it being a more amusing mode of conveyance in G's eyes than her sister's elegant carriage. So we drove up and down the Red Road and along the Strand until the darkness came. It rained this morning the first rain I have seen in this dusty land making the roads quite muddy and the air damp and cold.
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