Under the Deodars | Page 5

plumed
herself.
'I warn you,' said Mrs. Mallowe, beginning to repent of her suggestion,
'that the matter is not half so easy as it looks. Any woman even the
Topsham Girl can catch a man, but very, very few know how to
manage him when caught.'
'My child,' was the answer, 'I've been a female St. Simon Stylites
looking down upon men for these these years past. Ask The Mussuck
whether I can manage them.'

Mrs. Hauksbee departed humming, 'I'll go to him and say to him in
manner most ironical.' Mrs. Mallowe laughed to herself. Then she grew
suddenly sober. 'I wonder whether I've done well in advising that
amusement? Lucy's a clever woman, but a thought too careless.'
A week later the two met at a Monday Pop. 'Well?' said Mrs. Mallowe.
'I've caught him!' said Mrs. Hauksbee: her eyes were dancing with
merriment.
'Who is it, mad woman? I'm sorry I ever spoke to you about it.'
'Look between the pillars. In the third row; fourth from the end. You
can see his face now. Look!'
'Otis Yeere! Of all the improbable and impossible people! I don't
believe you.'
'Hsh! Wait till Mrs. Tarkass begins murdering Milton Wellings; and I'll
tell you all about it. S-s-ss! That woman's voice always reminds me of
an Underground train coming into Earl's Court with the brakes on. Now
listen. It is really Otis Yeere.'
'So I see, but does it follow that he is your property!'
'He is! By right of trove. I found him, lonely and unbefriended, the very
next night after our talk, at the Dugald Delanes' burra-khana. I liked his
eyes, and I talked to him. Next day he called. Next day we went for a
ride together, and to-day he's tied to my 'richshaw-wheels hand and foot.
You'll see when the concert's over. He doesn't know I'm here yet.'
'Thank goodness you haven't chosen a boy. What are you going to do
with him, assuming that you've got him?'
'Assuming, indeed! Does a woman do I ever make a mistake in that sort
of thing? First' Mrs. Hauksbee ticked off the items ostentatiously on her
little gloved fingers 'First, my dear, I shall dress him properly. At
present his raiment is a disgrace, and he wears a dress-shirt like a

crumpled sheet of the Pioneer. Secondly, after I have made him
presentable, I shall form his manners his morals are above reproach.'
'You seem to have discovered a great deal about him considering the
shortness of your acquaintance.'
'Surely you ought to know that the first proof a man gives of his interest
in a woman is by talking to her about his own sweet self. If the woman
listens without yawning, he begins to like her. If she flatters the
animal's vanity, he ends by adoring her.'
'In some cases.'
'Never mind the exceptions. I know which one you are thinking of.
Thirdly, and lastly, after he is polished and made pretty, I shall, as you
said, be his guide, philosopher, and friend, and he shall become a
success as great a success as your friend. I always wondered how that
man got on. Did The Mussuck come to you with the Civil List and,
dropping on one knee no, two knees, ˆ la Gibbon hand it to you and say,
''Adorable angel, choose your friend's appointment"?'
'Lucy, your long experiences of the Military Department have
demoralised you. One doesn't do that sort of thing on the Civil Side.'
'No disrespect meant to Jack's Service, my dear. I only asked for
information. Give me three months, and see what changes I shall work
in my prey.'
'Go your own way since you must. But I'm sorry that I was weak
enough to suggest the amusement.'
' ''I am all discretion, and may be trusted to an in-fin-ite extent," '
quoted Mrs. Hauksbee from The Fallen Angel; and the conversation
ceased with Mrs. Tarkass's last, long-drawn war-whoop.
Her bitterest enemies and she had many could hardly accuse Mrs.
Hauksbee of wasting her time. Otis Yeere was one of those wandering
'dumb' characters, foredoomed through life to be nobody's property.

Ten years in Her Majesty's Bengal Civil Service, spent, for the most
part, in undesirable Districts, had given him little to be proud of, and
nothing to bring confidence. Old enough to have lost the first fine
careless rapture that showers on the immature 'Stunt imaginary
Commissionerships and Stars, and sends him into the collar with
coltish earnestness and abandon; too young to be yet able to look back
upon the progress he had made, and thank Providence that under the
conditions of the day he had come even so far, he stood upon the
dead-centre of his career. And when a man stands still he feels the
slightest impulse