British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
CAPT. G. I have got both scales somewhere in my head; but it's hard to
tell how light you can make a head-stall, for instance, until you've
actually had a model made.
MRS. G. But if you read out the list, I could copy it down, and pin it
up there just above your table. Wouldn't that do?
CAPT. G. It would be awf'ly nice, dear, but it would be giving you
trouble for nothing. I can't work that way. I go by rule of thumb. I
know the present scale of weights, and the other one--the one that
I'm trying to work to--will shift and vary so much that I couldn't be
certain, even if I wrote it down.
MRS. G. I'm so sorry. I thought I might help. Is there anything else
that I could be of use in?
CAPT. G. (Looking round the room.) I can't think of anything. You're
always helping me you know.
MRS. G. Am I? How?
CAPT. G. You are of course, and as long as you're near me--I can't
explain exactly, but it's in the air.
MRS. G. And that's why you wanted to send me away?
CAPT. G. That's only when I'm trying to do work--grubby work like this.
MRS. G. Mafflin's better, then, isn't he?
CAPT. G. (Rashly.) Of course he is. Jack and I have been thinking along
the same groove for two or three years about this equipment. It's our
hobby, and it may really be useful some day.
MRS. G. (After a pause.) And that's all that you have away from me?
CAPT. G. It isn't very far away from you now. Take care the oil on that
bit doesn't come off on your dress.
MRS. G. I wish--I wish so much that I could really help you. I believe I
could--if I left the room. But that's not what I mean.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) Give me patience! I wish she would go. (Aloud.) I
as-sure you you can't do anything for me, Minnie, and I must really
settle down to this. Where's my pouch?
MRS. G. (Crossing to writing-table.) Here you are, Bear. What a mess you
keep your table in!
CAPT. G. Don't touch it. There's a method in my madness, though you
mightn't think of it.
MRS. G. (At table.) I want to look--Do you keep accounts, Pip?
CAPT. G. (Bending over saddlery.) Of a sort. Are you rummaging among the
Troop papers? Be careful.
MRs. G. Why? I sha'n't disturb anything. Good gracious! I had no idea
that you had anything to do with so many sick horses.
CAPT. G. 'Wish I hadn't, but they insist on falling sick. Minnie, if
I were you I really should not investigate those papers. You may come
across something that you won't like.
MRS. G. Why will you always treat me like a child? I know I'm not
displacing the horrid things.
CAPT. G. (Resignedly.) Very well, then. Don't blame me if anything
happens. Play with the table and let me go on with the saddlery.
(Slipping hand into trousers-pocket.) Oh, the deuce!
MRS. G. (Her back to G.) What's that for?
CAPT. G. Nothing. (Aside.) There's not much in it, but I wish I'd torn
it up.
MRS. G. (Turning over contents of table.) I know you'll hate me for
this; but I do want to see what your work is like. (A pause.) Pip, what
are “farcybuds”?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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