I like the chairs, enormous cane things with long wooden
arms which Boggley says are meant for putting one's feet on, and most
comfortable.
Boggley's bedroom is next his study, but I have to take a walk before
I come to mine, out of the window,--or door, I'm never sure which it
is,--down some steps, then along a garden-walk, round a corner, and
up some more steps, where I reach first a small ante-room and then my
bedroom. Like the other rooms, it is whitewashed and has a very high
ceiling. Some confiding sparrows have built a nest in a hole in the
wall, and--and this is really upsetting--there are _ten_ different
ways of entering the room, doors and windows, and half of them I can't
lock or bar or fasten up in any way. What I should do if a Mutiny
occurred I can't think! My bed with its mosquito-curtains stands like
a little island in a vast sea of matting, and there are two large
wardrobes, what they call _almirahs_, a dressing-table, and two
chairs. It is empty and airy, and that is all that is required of a
bedroom.
The four houses, as I told you, stand in a compound. It isn't exactly
a garden, for there are lots of things in it that we would consider
quite superfluous in a self-respecting garden. There is a good tennis
lawn, plots of flowers, trimly-kept walks bordered with poinsettias,
and trees with white, heavily-scented flowers, and opposite my bedroom
is a little stone-paved enclosure where two cows and two calves lead
a calm and meditative existence! And further, there are funny little
huts scattered about where one catches glimpses of natives at their
devotions or slumbering peacefully.
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