| caption: |
letters from Ursula Graham Bower |
| text: |
We have just been holding the morning dispensary, which was interrupted by girlish squeals and giggles and the arrival of two girls pushing the headman down the path by the slack of his cloth. He retaliated, and grabbed the eldest girl's basket, which he dumped in the cookhouse door; whereon our good-looking and eligible Saknio pinched the axe out of it, and when she came to fetch it, stalked out of the cookhouse with the axe on his shoulder, like a good Naga husband, and led the way to the woods. She, a plump and giggly wench who would be an invitation to slap-and-tickle in any language, trotted after him, little sister bringing up the rear. At the turn of the road Saknio had another look at her, and carried on out of sight, and I daresay they are getting on quite well without a word of a common language. They have been missing over an hour, anyway. I hope we shan't have an infuriated Angami boy-friend after Saknio with a battle-axe. |
