monstrous and not to be endured; but when you call your Boy up and
prepare to discharge the bombshell of your indignation, he merely
inquires in an unagitated tone of voice which item you find fault
with, and you become painfully aware that you have not a leg to stand
on. In the first place, most of the items are too minute to allow of
much retrenchment. You can scarcely make sweeping reductions on such
charges as:- "Butons for master's trouser, 9 pies;" "Tramwei for
going to market, 1 anna 6 pies;" "Grain to sparrow" (canary seed!) "1
anna 3 pies;" "Making white to master's hat, 5 pies." And when at
last you find a charge big enough to lay hold of, the imperturbable
man proceeds to explain how, in the case of that particular item, he
was able, by the exercise of a little forethought, to save you 2
annas and 3 pies. I have struggled against these accounts and know
them. It is vain to be indignant. You must just pay the bill, and
if you do not want another, you must make up your mind to be your own
treasurer. You will fall in your Boy's estimation, but it does not
follow that he will leave your service. The notion that every native
servant makes a principle of saving the whole of his wages and
remitting them monthly to Goa, or Nowsaree, is one of the ancient
myths of Anglo-India. I do not mean to say that if you encourage
your Boy to do this he will refuse; on the contrary, he likes it.
But the ordinary Boy, I believe, is not a prey to ambition and, if he
can find service to his mind, easily reconciles himself to living on
his wages, or, as he terms it, in the practical spirit of oriental
imagery, "eating" them. The conditions he values seem to be,--
permanence, respectful treatment, immunity from kicks and cuffs and
from abuse, especially in his own tongue, and, above all, a quiet
life, without kitkit, which may be vulgarly translated, nagging. He
considers his situation with regard to these conditions, he considers
also his pay and prospect of unjust emoluments, with a judicial mind