There are two Royle children--Kittiwake and Hilda. Kittiwake
(christened, I believe, Kathleen Helen) is fat and broad and beaming,
and very religious. Hilda is inclined to love the gay world, and finds
Rika too quiet--the baby aged six! They are both thorough little
sportsmen and mounted on their ponies go with their father almost
everywhere. Yesterday I went for a ride with them, along dusty brown
roads between rice-fields, and they gave me a wonderful lot of
information about the place and the people. As we passed a little
village temple Kittiwake stopped. "_That_," she said solemnly,
pointing with her whip, "is where they worship false gods."
I told Mr. Royle about Peter being so anxious for a mongoose, and
to-day when the children came running to beg me to come quickly and
see what the fisherman had caught for me, my mind leapt at once to
mongooses. When I saw, confined under a wicker basket, two animals
with yellow fur and flat heads that moved ceaselessly, my heart sank.
If they had been caught for me how could I be so ungracious as to
refuse them, and yet how was it possible for me to carry these most
terrifying creatures about with me, and perhaps, on the voyage home,
have to share my cabin with them?
I looked round wildly. The fisherman was grinning delightedly at his
own cleverness. Our two _chuprassis_, Autolycus, and a _syce_ stood
round with the children, all waiting for my approval.
"They're rather nice, aren't they?" I stammered feebly.
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