"Sahib?" "_Tikka-gharri lao_,[56] you lazy little 'ound! Don't I speak plain English?" The Professor made it a practice to "rot" when not working--hoping thus even in India to retain sanity and the broad and wholesome outlook, for he was a very short-tempered person, easily roused to dangerous wrath. [56] Bring. A carriage, upholding a pony who, in return, spasmodically moved the carriage which gave evidence of having been where moths break through and steal, lumbered into the Club garden, and the Professor, imploring the jehu not to let the pony "die on him" in the Hibernian sense of the expression, gingerly entered. "Convey me to the gilded Potipharparian 'alls, Arthur," said he. "Sahib?" "Why _don't_ you listen? _Palangur Hill ki pas_[57] And don't forget you've to get me there at 5 p.m. C.T. or S.T.--I leave it to you, partner." [57] To. On arrival, the Professor concluded that if he had arrived at 5 p.m. C.T. he ought to have come at 5 p.m. S.T., or vice versa; as what he termed 'the show' was evidently about over. Fortune favours all sorts of people. His hostess, who looked as though she had come straight out of the Bible _via_ Bond Street, and his host, who looked as though he had never come out of Petticoat Lane at all, both accused him of being unable to work out the problem of "Find Calcutta Time given the Standard Time," and he professed to be proud to be able to acknowledge the truth of the compliment. "Come and be presented to Meester and Meesers Carneelius Garsling-Green, M.P.," said the lady, waddling before him; and her husband echoed:-- "Oah, yess. Come and be presented to Meester and Meesers Garsling-Green," waddling after him. Mr. Cornelius Gosling-Green, M.P., proved to be a tall, drooping, melancholy creature, with "Dundreary" whiskers, reach-me-down suit of thick cloth, wrong kind of tie, thickish boots, and no presence. Without "form" and void. Mrs. Cornelius Gosling-Green was a Severe Person, tiny, hard-featured and even more garrulous than her husband, who watched her anxiously and nervously as he answered any question put in her presence.... "And, oh, why, _why_ are not you Mohammedans _loyal_?" said Mrs. Cornelius Gosling-Green, to a magnificent-looking specimen of the Mussulman of the old school--stately, venerable, courteous and honourable--who stood near, looking as though he wondered what the devil he was doing in that galley. Turning from his friend, Mir Ilderim Dost Mahommed Mir Hafiz Ullah Khan, a fine Pathan, "Loyal, Madam! _Loyal_! Believe me we Mohammedans are most intensely and devotedly loyal," he replied. "You have indeed been misled. Though you are only spending a month in India for collecting the materials for your book or pamphlet, you must really learn _that_ much. We Mohammedans are as loyal as the English themselves.--More loyal than some in fact," he added, with intent. The Pathan smiled meaningly.