He fears it
as he fears cobras, fever, and freemasons. His ideal life is nothing to
do, nothing to wear, and plenty to eat, with the thermometer at 135
degrees in the verandah and 110 inside. Then he is happy. His body
swells with much good rice and _dal_, and his heart with pride; he will
wear as little as you will let him, and whether you will let him or not,
he will do less work in a given time than any living description of
servant. So they basked in rows in the sunshine, and did not even
quarrel or tell yarns among themselves; it was quiet and warm and
sleepy. I dozed lazily, dropped my book in my lap, struggled once, and
then fairly fell asleep.
I was roused by Kiramat Ali pulling at my foot, as natives will when
they are afraid of the consequences of waking their master. When I
opened my eyes he presented a card on a salver, and explained that the
gentleman wanted to see me. I looked, and was rather surprised to see it
was Kildare's card. "Lord Steepleton Kildare, 33d Lancers "--there was
no word in pencil, or any message. I told Kiramat to show the sahib in,
wondering why he should call on me. By Indian etiquette, if there was to
be any calling, it was my duty to make the first visit. Before I had
time to think more I heard the clanking of spurs and sabre on the
verandah, and the young man walked in, clad in the full uniform of his
regiment.
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