India -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
"'Ye black brazen Jezebel,' sez I, 'sellin' your masther's honor for five
rupees--pack up all the Miss Sahib's kit an' look slippy! _Capt'n Sahib's_
order,' sez I, 'Going to the station we are,' I sez, an' wid that I laid
my finger to my nose an' looked the schamin' sinner I was.
"'_Bote acchy_,' says she; so I knew she was in the business, an' I piled
up all the sweet talk I'd iver learned in the bazars on to this
she-bullock, an' prayed av her to put all the quick she knew into the
thing. While she packed, I stud outside an' sweated, for I was wanted for
to shif' the second scene. I tell you, a young gurl's e-vasion manes as
much baggage as a rig'mint on the line av march! 'Saints help Dennis's
springs,' thinks I, as I bundled the stuff into the thrap, 'for I'll have
no mercy!'
"'I'm comin' too,' says the ayah.
"'No, you don't,' sez I, 'later--_pechy_! You _baito_ where you are. I'll
_pechy_ come an' bring you _sart_, along with me, you maraudin''--niver
mind fwhat I called her.
"Thin I wint for the Gaff, an' by the special ordher av Providence, for I
was doin' a good work you will ondersthand, Dennis's springs hild toight.
'Now, whin the Capt'n goes for that kit,' thinks I, 'he'll be throubled.'
At the end av _Sweethearts_ off the Capt'n runs in his kyart to the
Colonel's house, an' I sits down on the steps and laughs. Wanst an' again
I slipped in to see how the little piece was goin', an' whin ut was near
endin' I stepped out all among the carriages an' sings out very softly,
'Jungi!' Wid that a carr'ge began to move, an' I waved to the dhriver.
'_Hitherao!_' sez I, an' he _hitheraoed_ till I judged he was at proper
distance, an' thin I tuk him, fair an' square betune the eyes, all I knew
for good or bad, an' he dhropped wid a guggle like the canteen beer-engine
whin ut's runnin' low, Thin I ran to the kyart an' tuk out all the kit an'
piled it into the carr'ge, the sweat runnin' down my face in dhrops, 'Go
home,' sez I, to the _sais;_ 'you'll find a man close here. Very sick he
is. Take him away, an' av you iver say wan wurrd about fwhat you've
_dekkoed_, I'll _marrow_ you till your own wife won't _sumjao_ who you
are!' Thin I heard the stampin' av feet at the ind av the play, an' I ran
in to let down the curtain. Whin they all came out the gurl thried to hide
herself behind wan av the pillars, an' sez 'Jungi' in a voice that
wouldn't ha' scared a hare. I run over to Jungi's carr'ge an' tuk up the
lousy old horse-blanket on the box, wrapped my head an' the rest av me in
ut, an' dhrove up to where she was.
"'Miss Sahib,' sez I; 'going to the station? _Captain Sahib's_ order!' an'
widout a sign she jumped in all among her own kit.
"I laid to an' dhruv like steam to the Colonel's house before the Colonel
was there, an' she screamed an' I thought she was goin' off. Out comes the
ayah, saying all sorts av things about the Capt'n havin' come for the kit
an' gone to the station.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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