in for
the demi-semi-royal or embarrassing reception, when a man, being the
unwelcome guest of a paternal State, is neither allowed to pay his way
and make himself comfortable, nor is he willingly entertained. When he
saw a one-eyed _munshi_ (clerk), he felt certain that Ganesh had turned
upon him at last. The _munshi_ demanded and received the _purwana_, or
written permit. Then he sat down and questioned the traveller
exhaustively as to his character and profession. Having thoroughly
satisfied himself that the visitor was in no way connected with the
Government or the "Agenty Sahib Bahadur," he took no further thought of
the matter and the day began to draw in upon a grassy bund, an open-work
pavilion, and a disconsolate tonga.

At last the faithful servitor, who had helped to fight the Battle of the
Mail Bags at Udaipur, broke his silence, and vowing that all these
devil-people--not more than twelve--had only come to see the fun,
suggested the breaking of the _munshi's_ head. And, indeed, that seemed
the best way of breaking the ice; for the _munshi_ had, in the politest
possible language, put forward the suggestion that there was nothing
particular to show that the Sahib who held the _purwana_ had really any
right to hold it. The _chowkidar_ woke up and chanted a weird chant,
accompanied by the Anglo-Saxon attitudes, a new set. He was an old man,
and all the Sahib-log said so, and within the pavilion were tables and
chairs and lamps and bath-tubs, and everything that the heart of man
could desire. Even now an enormous staff of menials were arranging all
these things for the comfort of the Sahib Bahadur and Protector of the
Poor, who had brought the honour and glory of his Presence all the way
from Deoli. What did tables and chairs and eggs and fowls and very
bright lamps matter to the Raj? He was an old man and ... "Who put the
present Raja on the throne?" "Lake Sahib," promptly answered the
_chowkidar_. "I was there. That is the news of many old years." Now Tod
says it was he himself who installed "Lalji the beloved" in the year
1821. The Englishman began to lose faith in the _chowkidar_. The
_munshi_ said nothing but followed the Englishman with his one workable
eye. A merry little breeze crisped the waters of the lake, and the fish
began to frolic before going to bed.

"Is nobody going to do or bring anything?" said the Englishman, faintly,
wondering whether the local gaol would give him a bed if he killed the