Miss T. (patronizingly).—You should pass the Higher Standard and try.
Captain G.—I have, but I don't seem to be any the wiser. Are you?
Miss T.—I never passed the Higher Standard. But the butler is very patient with me. He doesn't get angry when I talk about sheep's hats, or order tons of gram when I mean pounds.
Captain G. (aside, with intense indignation).—I'd like to see Mir Khan being rude to that girl! Hullo! Steady the Buffs! (Aloud). And do you understand about horses, too?
Miss T.—A little—not very much. I can't doctor them, but I know what they ought to eat, and I am in charge of our stable.
Captain G.—Indeed! You might help me then. What ought a man to give his groom in the Hills? My ruffian says eight rupees, because everything is so dear.
Miss T.—Six rupees a month, and one rupee Simla allowance—neither more nor less. And a grass-cutter gets six rupees. That's better than buying grass in the bazaar.
Captain G. (admiringly).—How do you know?
Miss T.—I have tried both ways.
Captain G.—Do you ride much, then? I've never seen you on the Mall?
Miss T. (aside.)—I haven't passed him more than fifty times. (Aloud). Nearly every day.
Captain G.—By Jove! I didn't know that. Ha—Hmmm (Pulls at his moustaches and is silent for forty seconds.)
Miss T. (desperately, and wondering what will happen next.)—It looks beautiful. I shouldn't touch it if I were you. (Aside.) It's all Mamma's fault for not coming before. I will be rude!
Captain G. (bronzing under the tan and bringing down his hand very quickly.)—Eh! What-at! Oh, yes! Ha! Ha! (Laughs uneasily.) (Aside.) Well, of all the dashed
