India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction; Short stories, English
‘Polly,’ said a voice from the darkness, ‘what did that
American-heiress-globe-trotter girl say last season when she was tipped
out of her ‘rickshaw turning a corner? Some absurd adjective that made
the man who picked her up explode.’
“‘Paltry,”’ said Mrs. Mallowe. ‘Through her nose like this “Ha-ow
pahltry!”’
‘Exactly,’ said the voice. ‘Ha-ow pahltry it all is!’
‘Which?’
‘Everything. Babies, Diphtheria, Mrs. Bent and The Dancing Master, I
whooping in a chair, and The Dowd dropping in from the clouds. I wonder
what the motive was all the motives.’
‘Um!’
‘What do you think?’
‘Don’t ask me. Go to sleep.’
ONLY A SUBALTERN
.... Not only to enforce by command, but to encourage by
example the energetic discharge of duty and the steady endurance
of the difficulties and privations inseparable from Military Service.
--Bengal Army Regulations.
They made Bobby Wick pass an examination at Sandhurst. He was a
gentleman before he was gazetted, so, when the Empress announced that
‘Gentleman-Cadet Robert Hanna Wick’ was posted as Second Lieutenant to
the Tyneside Tail Twisters at Krab Bokhar, he became an officer and a
gentleman, which is an enviable thing; and there was joy in the house of
Wick where Mamma Wick and all the little Wicks fell upon their knees and
offered incense to Bobby by virtue of his achievements.
Papa Wick had been a Commissioner in his day, holding authority over
three millions of men in the Chota-Buldana Division, building great
works for the good of the land, and doing his best to make two blades
of grass grow where there was but one before. Of course, nobody knew
anything about this in the little English village where he was just ‘old
Mr. Wick,’ and had forgotten that he was a Companion of the Order of the
Star of India.
He patted Bobby on the shoulder and said: ‘Well done, my boy!’
There followed, while the uniform was being prepared, an interval of
pure delight, during which Bobby took brevet-rank as a ‘man’ at the
women-swamped tennis-parties and tea-fights of the village, and, I
daresay, had his joining-time been extended, would have fallen in love
with several girls at once. Little country villages at Home are very
full of nice girls, because all the young men come out to India to make
their fortunes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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