Am I flippant? I don't
mean to be, because I feel I can't sufficiently admire the men and
women who are bearing the heat and burden of the day. And now that
sounds patronizing, and Heaven knows I don't mean to be that.
Anyway, G. and I were never intended to be missionaries. We drove
home very silent, in the only vehicle procurable, a third-class
_tikka-gharry_, feeling as if all the varied smells of the East were
lying heavy on our chests. Once G. said gloomily, "How long does
typhoid fever take to come out?" which made me laugh weakly most of
the way home.
_13th_.
The day of our departure has come, and Boggley is behaving dreadfully.
Having taken time by the forelock, I am packed and ready, but Boggley
has done nothing. He remarked airily that I must go to the Stores and
get some sheets, a new mosquito-net, and a supply of pots and pans,
and then went off to lunch with someone at the Club, leaving me
speechless with rage. How can I possibly know what sort of pots and
pans are wanted? I never camped out before. I shall calmly finish this
letter and pay no attention to his order.
We had a farewell dinner last night, the Ormondes and one or two
others. We came into this dismantled room afterwards and talked till
midnight, and amused ourselves vastly. I happened to say that I was
rather scared at the thought of the wild beasts I might encounter,
probably under my camp-bed, in the jungle; so a man, Captain Rawson,
drew out a table for me to take with me into camp.
Pages:
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104