Angel: A sketch in Indian inkCroker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
History
Angel: A sketch in Indian ink
Croker, B. M. (Bithia Mary)
British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
"A hat," she echoed. "Oh, Philip, I—I—shall be too happy."
"All right, then," lifting her down as he spoke; "you can try what it
feels like to be too happy. I can't say I know the sensation myself."
As the oddly-matched couple now entered the shop hand in hand, the
smart, soldierly young man and the shabby little girl, an obsequious
attendant emerged from some dark lair. At this time of year business
was slack, and the atmosphere of the ill-ventilated premises was
reeking with oil, turmeric, and newly-roasted coffee.
"I want to look at some trimmed hats for this young lady," explained
her cavalier.
"Oh, Phil," she whispered, squeezing his hand tightly in her tiny
grasp, "it's the very first time I've been called a young lady."
"And won't be the last, we will hope," he answered.
"Have some iced lemonade, sir?" said a stout man in a gold skull-cap
and thin white muslin draperies.
"No, thank you—but you, Angel—will you have some?" asked her cousin.
"I should love it," and she put her lips greedily to a brimming
tumbler of her favourite beverage. Undoubtedly Angel was tasting every
description of pleasure to-day.
"And now for the hats; here they come!" announced her companion, as a
languid European assistant appeared with two in either hand.
"Oh, how lovely!" cried Angel, setting down the glass and clasping her
hands in rapturous admiration.
These hats, be it known, were the usual stock in trade of a native
shop up country, models that no sane woman in England would purchase
or be seen in; massive satin or velvet structures, with lumps of
faded flowers and tarnished gilt buckles, one more preposterous
than another, all equally dusty, tumbled, and expensive, and all
intended for full-grown wearers—if such could be beguiled into buying
them. Gascoigne took a seat and proceeded to watch his protégée's
proceedings with the keenest amusement, and exhibited no desire to cut
short her few blissful moments. Angel was absolutely happy, not had
been, or was to be, but actually happy in the present moment—and the
sight of such a condition is extremely rare.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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