A few nights ago this culminated in what Keats would have called a “purple riot.”  The sweeper and his friends were holding a meeting for the purpose of conversation and the consumption of apple brandy.

Having fruitlessly sent the shikari to try and stop the insufferable noise, I was fain to sally forth myself to investigate matters.

Then to a happy and light-hearted party seated chattering round a blazing fire there came suddenly the unwelcome apparition of an exceedingly irate sahib, in evening dress and pumps, brandishing a khudstick.

A wild scurry, in which the bonfire was scattered, a few remarks in forcible English, a whack which just missed the hindmost reveller, and the place became a deserted village.

Next morning Sabz Ali came to me in a towering rage to report that the sweeper—­that unclean outcast—­had dared to say most opprobrious things to him, being inspired thereto by the devil and apple brandy.  Nothing less than the immediate execution of the culprit by hanging, drawing, and quartering would satisfy the outraged feelings of our henchman.

I promised a yet severer punishment.  I said I would “cut” the wretched minion’s pay that month to the amount of a rupee.  Vengeance was satisfied, and the victim reduced to tears.

It is good to hear Jane—­who for many years has been accustomed to having her own way in all household matters—­ordering breakfast.

“Well, Sabz Ali—­what shall we have for breakfast to-morrow?”

“Jessa mem-sahib arder!”—­with a friendly grin.

“Then I shall have kidneys."’

“No kidney, mem-sahib!  Kidney plenty money—­two annas six pice ek.  Oh, plenty dear!”

“I’m tired of eggs.  Is there any cold chicken you could grill?”

“Chota murghi one egg lay, mem-sahib, anda poach.  Sahib, chicken grill laike!”

“Oh, all right!  But I thought of a mutton-chop for the major sahib.”

“Muttony stup” (mutton’s tough).  “Sahib no laike!”

“Very well, that will do—­a poached egg for me and grilled chicken for the sahib.”

“No, mem-sahib—­no ’nuf.  Sahib plenty ’ungry—­chicken grill, peechy ramble-tamble egg!”

“Have it your own way.  I daresay the major sahib would like scrambled eggs, and we’ll have coffee—­not tea.”

“No, mem-sahib.  No coffee—­coffee finish!”

“Send the shikari down to the bazaar, then, for a tin of coffee from Nusserwanjee.”

“Shikari saaf kuro lakri ke major sahib” (cleaning the golf-clubs).  “Tea breakfast, coffee kal” (to-morrow).

And, utterly routed on every point, Jane gives in gracefully, and makes an excellent breakfast as prearranged by Sabz Ali!