CAPT. G. But I can't speak the vernacular.

Miss T. (Patronizingly.) You should pass the Higher Standard and
try.

CAPT. 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 khansamah is
very patient with me. He doesn't get angry when I talk about
sheep's topees, or order maunds of grain when I mean seers.

CAPT. 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.

CAPT. G. Indeed! You might help me then. What ought a man to
give his sais 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-cut gets six rupees. That's
better than buying grass in the bazar.

CAPT. G. (Admiringly.) How do you know?

Miss T. I have tried both ways.