[8] He never forgot
our birthdays; however hot it was down in the scorched plains, when the
day came round, if we were up in the hills, a large parcel would arrive
from him. His very presence was joy and strength when he came to us at
Naini Tal. What a remembrance there is of early breakfasts and early
walks with him--the father and the three children! The table was spread
in the verandah between six and seven. Father made three cups of cocoa,
one for each of us, and then the glorious walk! The ponies followed
behind, each with their attendant grooms, and two or three red-coated
chaprassies, father stopping all along the road to talk to every native
who wished to speak to him, while we three ran about, laughing and
interested in everything. Then, at night, the shouting for him after we
were in bed, and father's step bounding up the stair in Calcutta, or
coming along the matted floor of our hill home. All order and quietness
were flung to the winds while he said good-night to us.
"It was always understood that Elsie and he were special chums, but that
never made any jealousy. Father was always just. The three cups of cocoa
were always the same in quantity and quality. We got equal shares of
his right and his left hand in our walks; but Elsie and he were
comrades, inseparables from the day of her birth.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30