...
Autolycus has knocked at the door to say "Master's come" (he likes to
be very European with me so doesn't call him Sahib), and I must go to
tea. To-morrow Boggley is taking the whole day off and we have got it
all planned out, every minute of it. In the morning we shall drive in
a _tikka-gharry_ to the Stores to buy some final necessaries (such as
soap and tooth-powder), then to Peliti's to eat ices, then to the shop
in Park Street so that Boggley may get me a delayed birthday present,
then round and round the Maidan. _Then_ we shall go to luncheon at the
Townleys and go on with them to Tollygunge for golf. _Then_ we are
going to tea with some people who are taking us a motor run. _Then_ we
go to a farewell dinner at the Ormondes'. Then we shall go to bed.
Bless you, my dear.
_S.S. Socotra, Homeward Bound, Somewhere in the Hoogly, April 24_.
... This day seems to have been going on for weeks and it is only
tea-time now. Was it only this morning that we left? I can't think
it was _this_ morning that Boggley and I took our last _chota-hazri_
together, and Boggley as he gloomily sugared his tea, said, "Now I
know what a condemned man feels like on the morning of his execution."
Then we laughed and it wasn't so bad. Autolycus, very important
because the Miss Sahib was going to cross the Black Water, bustled
about with my few packages (all the heavy baggage went away two days
ago) and, finally, bustled us into a _tikka-gharry_ in such good time
that we had to drive twice round the Maidan before we went to the
landing-stage.
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