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Title: Rujub, the Juggler

Author: G. A. Henty

Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7229]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on March 28, 2003]

Edition: 10

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUJUB, THE JUGGLER ***




This etext was produced by Martin Robb




Rujub, the Juggler
by G. A. Henty.



PUBLISHERS' INTRODUCTION.


"Rujub, the Juggler," is mainly an historical tale for young and
old, dealing with the Sepoy Mutiny, in India, during the years 1857
to 1859.

This famous mutiny occurred while the reins of British rule in
India were in the hands of Lord Canning. Chupattees (cakes of flour
and water) were circulated among the natives, placards protesting
against British rule were posted at Delhi, and when the Enfield
rifle with its greased cartridges was introduced among the Sepoy
soldiers serving the Queen it was rumored that the cartridges were
smeared with the forbidden pig's fat, so that the power of the
Sepoys might forever be destroyed.

Fanatical to the last degree, the Sepoys were not long in bringing
the mutiny to a head. The first outbreak occurred at Meerut, where
were stationed about two thousand English soldiers and three thousand
native troops. The native troops refused to use the cartridges
supplied to them and eighty-two were placed under arrest. On the
day following the native troops rebelled in a body, broke open the
guardhouse and released the prisoners, and a severe battle followed,
and Meerut was given over to the flames. The mutineers then marched
upon Delhi, thirty-two miles away, and took possession. At Bithoor
the Rajah had always professed a strong friendship for the English,
but he secretly plotted against them, and, later on, General Wheeler
was compelled to surrender to the Rajah at Cawnpore, and did so
with the understanding that the lives of all in the place should
be spared. Shortly after the surrender the English officers and
soldiers were shot down, and all of the women and children butchered.

The mutiny was now at its height, and for a while it was feared
that British rule in India must cease. The Europeans at Lucknow
were besieged for about three months and were on the point of giving
up, when they were relieved through the heroic march of General
Havelock. Sir Colin Campbell followed, and soon the city was once
more in the complete possession of the British. Oude was speedily
reduced to submission, many of the rebel leaders were either shot
or hanged, and gradually the mutiny, which had cost the lives of
thousands, was brought to an end.

The tale, however, is not all of war. In its pages are given many
true to life pictures of life in India, in the barracks of the
soldiers and elsewhere. A most important part is played by Rujub,
the juggler, who is a warm friend to the hero of the narrative.
Rujub is no common conjuror, but one of the higher men of mystery,
who perform partly as a religious duty and who accept no pay for such
performances. The acts of these persons are but little understood,
even at this late day, and it is possible that many of their arts
will sooner or later be utterly lost to the world at large. That
they can do some wonderful things in juggling, mind reading, and
in second sight, is testified to by thousands of people who have
witnessed their performances in India; how they do these things
has never yet been explained.

Strange as it may seem, the hero of the tale is a natural born
coward, who cannot stand the noise of gunfire. He realizes his
shortcomings, and they are frequently brought home to him through
the taunts of his fellow soldiers. A doctor proves that the dread
of noise is hereditary, but this only adds to the young soldier's
misery. To make himself brave he rushes to the front in a most
desperate fight, and engages in scout work which means almost certain
death. In the end he masters his fear, and gives a practical lesson
of what stern and unbending will power can accomplish.

In many respects "Rujub, the Juggler," will be found one of the
strongest of Mr. Henty's works, and this is saying much when one
considers all of the many stories this well known author has already
penned for the entertainment of young and old. As a picture of life
in the English Army in India it is unexcelled.



CHAPTER I.


It would be difficult to find a fairer scene. Throughout the gardens
lanterns of many shapes and devices threw their light down upon
the paths, which were marked out by lines of little lamps suspended
on wires a foot above the ground. In a treble row they encircled
a large tank or pond and studded a little island in its center.
Along the terraces were festoons and arches of innumerable lamps,
while behind was the Palace or Castle, for it was called either;
the Oriental doors and windows and the tracery of its walls lit up
below by the soft light, while the outline of the upper part could
scarce be made out. Eastern as the scene was, the actors were
for the most part English. Although the crowd that promenaded the
terrace was composed principally of men, of whom the majority were
in uniform of one sort or another, the rest in evening dress, there
were many ladies among them.

At the end of one of the terraces a band of the 103d Bengal Infantry
was playing, and when they ceased a band of native musicians, at
the opposite end of the terrace, took up the strains. Within, the
palace was brilliantly lighted, and at the tables in one of the
large apartments a few couples were still seated at supper. Among
his guests moved the Rajah, chatting in fluent English, laughing
with the men, paying compliments to the ladies, a thoroughly good
fellow all round, as his guests agreed. The affair had been a
great success. There had first been a banquet to the officers and
civilians at the neighboring station. When this was over, the ladies
began to arrive, and for their amusement there had been a native
nautch upon a grand scale, followed by a fine display of fireworks,
and then by supper, at which the Rajah had made a speech expressive
of his deep admiration and affection for the British. This he had
followed up by proposing the health of the ladies in flowery terms.
Never was there a better fellow than the Rajah. He had English
tastes, and often dined at one or other of the officers' messes.
He was a good shot, and could fairly hold his own at billiards. He
had first rate English horses in his stables, and his turnout was
perfect in all respects. He kept a few horses for the races, and
was present at every ball and entertainment. At Bithoor he kept
almost open house. There was a billiard room and racquet courts,
and once or twice a week there were luncheon parties, at which
from twelve to twenty officers were generally present. In all India
there was no Rajah with more pronounced English tastes or greater
affection for English people. The one regret of his life, he
often declared, was that his color and his religion prevented his
entertaining the hope of obtaining an English wife. All this, as
everyone said, was the more remarkable and praiseworthy, inasmuch
as he had good grounds of complaint against the British Government.

With the ladies he was an especial favorite; he was always ready
to show them courtesy. His carriages were at their service. He was
ready to give his aid and assistance to every gathering. His private
band played frequently on the promenade, and handsome presents of
shawls and jewelry were often made to those whom he held in highest
favor. At present he was talking to General Wheeler and some other
officers.

"I warn you that I mean to win the cup at the races," he said; "I
have just bought the horse that swept the board on the Bombay side;
I have set my heart on winning the cup, and so secured this horse.
I am ready to back it if any of you gentlemen are disposed to wager
against it."

"All in good time, Rajah," one of the officers laughed; "we don't
know what will be entered against it yet, and we must wait to see
what the betting is, but I doubt whether we have anything that
will beat the Bombay crack on this side; I fancy you will have to
lay odds on."

"We shall see," the Rajah said; "I have always been unlucky, but
I mean to win this time."

"I don't think you take your losses much to heart, Rajah," General
Wheeler said; "yet there is no doubt that your bets are generally
somewhat rash ones."

"I mean to make a coup this time. That is your word for a big
thing, I think. The Government has treated me so badly I must try
to take something out of the pockets of its officers."

"You do pretty well still," the General laughed; "after this splendid
entertainment you have given us this evening you can hardly call
yourself a poor man."

"I know I am rich. I have enough for my little pleasures--I do
not know that I could wish for more--still no one is ever quite
content."

By this time the party was breaking up, and for the next half hour
the Rajah was occupied in bidding goodby to his guests. When the
last had gone he turned and entered the palace, passed through the
great halls, and, pushing aside a curtain, entered a small room. The
walls and the columns were of white marble, inlaid with arabesque
work of colored stones. Four golden lamps hung from the ceiling, the
floor was covered with costly carpets, and at one end ran a raised
platform a foot in height, piled with soft cushions. He took a
turn or two up and down the room, and then struck a silver bell.
An attendant entered.

"Send Khoosheal and Imambux here."

Two minutes later the men entered. Imambux commanded the Rajah's
troops, while Khoosheal was the master of his household.

"All has gone off well," the Rajah said; "I am pleased with you,
Khoosheal. One more at most, and we shall have done with them.
Little do they think what their good friend Nana Sahib is preparing
for them. What a poor spirited creature they think me to kiss the
hand that robbed me, to be friends with those who have deprived
me of my rights! But the day of reckoning is not far off, and then
woe to them all! Have any of your messengers returned, Imambux?"

"Several have come in this evening, my lord; would you see them
now, or wait till morning?"

"I will see them now; I will get the memory of these chattering
men and these women with their bare shoulders out of my mind. Send
the men in one by one. I have no further occasion for you tonight;
two are better than three when men talk of matters upon which an
empire depends."

The two officers bowed and retired, and shortly afterwards the
attendant drew back the curtain again, and a native, in the rags
of a mendicant, entered, and bowed till his forehead touched the
carpet. Then he remained kneeling, with his arms crossed over his
chest, and his head inclined in the attitude of the deepest humility.

"Where have you been?" the Rajah asked.

"My lord's slave has been for three weeks at Meerut. I have obeyed
orders. I have distributed chupaties among the native regiments,
with the words, 'Watch, the time is coming,' and have then gone
before I could be questioned. Then, in another disguise, I have
gone through the bazaar, and said in talk with many that the Sepoys
were unclean and outcast, for that they had bitten cartridges anointed
with pig's fat, and that the Government had purposely greased the
cartridges with this fat in order that the caste of all the Sepoys
should be destroyed. When I had set men talking about this I left;
it will be sure to come to the Sepoys' ears."

The Rajah nodded. "Come again tomorrow at noon; you will have your
reward then and further orders; but see that you keep silence;
a single word, and though you hid in the farthest corner of India
you would not escape my vengeance."

Man after man entered. Some of them, like the first, were in
mendicant's attire, one or two were fakirs, one looked like a well
to do merchant. With the exception of the last, all had a similar
tale to tell; they had been visiting the various cantonments of
the native army, everywhere distributing chupaties and whispering
tales of the intention of the Government to destroy the caste of the
Sepoys by greasing the cartridges with pig's fat. The man dressed
like a trader was the last to enter.

"How goes it, Mukdoomee?"

"It is well, my lord; I have traversed all the districts where we
dwelt of old, before the Feringhee stamped us out and sent scores
to death and hundreds to prison. Most of the latter whom death has
spared are free now, and with many of them have I talked. They are
most of them old, and few would take the road again, but scarce one
but has trained up his son or grandson to the work; not to practice
it,--the hand of the whites was too heavy before, and the gains
are not large enough to tempt men to run the risk--but they teach
them for the love of the art. To a worshiper of the goddess there
is a joy in a cleverly contrived plan and in casting the roomal
round the neck of the victim, that can never die. Often in my young
days, when perhaps twelve of us were on the road in a party, we
made less than we could have done by labor, but none minded.

"We were sworn brothers; we were working for Kali, and so that we
sent her victims we cared little; and even after fifteen or twenty
years spent in the Feringhee's prisons, we love it still; none
hate the white man as we do; has he not destroyed our profession?
We have two things to work for; first, for vengeance; second, for
the certainty that if the white man's Raj were at an end, once again
would the brotherhood follow their profession, and reap booty for
ourselves and victims for Kali; for, assuredly, no native prince
would dare to meddle with us. Therefore, upon every man who was
once a Thug, and upon his sons and grandsons, you may depend. I do
not say that they would be useful for fighting, for we have never
been fighters, but the stranglers will be of use. You can trust them
with missions, and send them where you choose. From their fathers'
lips they have learnt all about places and roads; they can decoy
Feringhee travelers, the Company's servants or soldiers, into
quiet places, and slay them. They can creep into compounds and into
houses, and choose their victims from the sleepers. You can trust
them, Rajah, for they have learned to hate, and each in his way
will, when the times comes, aid to stir up men to rise. The past
had almost become a dream, but I have roused it into life again,
and upon the descendants of the stranglers throughout India you
can count surely."

"You have not mentioned my name?" the Rajah said suddenly, looking
closely at the man as he put the question.

"Assuredly not, your highness; I have simply said deliverance is
at hand; the hour foretold for the end of the Raj of the men from
beyond the sea will soon strike, and they will disappear from the
land like fallen leaves; then will the glory of Kali return, then
again will the brotherhood take to the road and gather in victims.
I can promise that every one of those whose fathers or grandfathers
or other kin died by the hand of the Feringhee, or suffered in his
prisons, will do his share of the good work, and be ready to obey
to the death the orders which will reach him."

"It is good," the Rajah said; "you and your brethren will have a
rich harvest of victims, and the sacred cord need never be idle.
Go; it is well nigh morning, and I would sleep."

But not for some time did the Rajah close his eyes; his brain was
busy with the schemes which he had long been maturing, but was only
now beginning to put into action.

"It must succeed," he said to himself; "all through India the
people will take up arms when the Sepoys give the signal by rising
against their officers. The whites are wholly unsuspicious; they
even believe that I, I whom they have robbed, am their friend.
Fools! I hold them in the hollow of my hand; they shall trust me
to the last, and then I will crush them. Not one shall escape me!
Would I were as certain of all the other stations in India as I am
of this. Oude, I know, will rise as one man; the Princes of Delhi
I have sounded; they will be the leaders, though the old King will
be the nominal head; but I shall pull the strings, and as Peishwa,
shall be an independent sovereign, and next in dignity to the Emperor.
Only nothing must be done until all is ready; not a movement must
be made until I feel sure that every native regiment from Calcutta
to the North is ready to rise."

And so, until the day had fully broken, the Rajah of Bithoor thought
over his plans--the man who had a few hours before so sumptuously
entertained the military and civilians of Cawnpore, and the man
who was universally regarded as the firm friend of the British and
one of the best fellows going.

The days and weeks passed on, messengers came and went, the storm
was slowing brewing; and yet to all men it seemed that India was
never more contented nor the outlook more tranquil and assured.



CHAPTER II.


A young man in a suit of brown karkee, with a white puggaree wound
round his pith helmet, was just mounting in front of his bungalow
at Deennugghur, some forty miles from Cawnpore, when two others
came up.

"Which way are you going to ride, Bathurst?"

"I am going out to Narkeet; there is a dispute between the villagers
and a Talookdar as to their limits. I have got to look into the
case. Why do you ask, Mr. Hunter?"

"I thought that you might be going that way. You know we have had
several reports of ravages by a man eater whose headquarters seem
to be that big jungle you pass through on your way to Narkeet. He
has been paying visits to several villages in its neighborhood,
and has carried off two mail runners. I should advise you to keep
a sharp lookout."

"Yes, I have heard plenty about him; it is unfortunate we have no
one at this station who goes in for tiger hunting. Young Bloxam
was speaking to me last night; he is very hot about it; but as he
knows nothing about shooting, and has never fired off a rifle in
his life, except at the military target, I told him that it was
madness to think of it by himself, and that he had better ride down
to the regiment at Cawnpore, and get them to form a party to come
up to hunt the beast. I told him they need not bring elephants
with them; I could get as many as were necessary from some of the
Talookdars, and there will be no want of beaters. He said he would
write at once, but he doubted whether any of them would be able
to get away at present; the general inspection is just coming on.
However, no doubt they will be able to do so before long."

"Well, if I were you I would put a pair of pistols into my holster,
Bathurst; it would be awfully awkward if you came across the beast."

"I never carry firearms," the young man said shortly; and then
more lightly, "I am a peaceful man by profession, as you are, Mr.
Hunter, and I leave firearms to those whose profession it is to
use them. I have hitherto never met with an occasion when I needed
them, and am not likely to do so. I always carry this heavy hunting
whip, which I find useful sometimes, when the village dogs rush
out and pretend that they are going to attack me; and I fancy that
even an Oude swordsman would think twice before attacking me when
I had it in my hand. But, of course, there is no fear about the
tiger. I generally ride pretty fast; and even if he were lying by
the roadside waiting for a meal, I don't think he would be likely
to interfere with me."

So saying, he lightly touched the horse's flanks with his spurs
and cantered off.

"He's a fine young fellow, Garnet," Mr. Hunter said to his companion;
"full of energy, and, they say, the very best linguist in Oude."

"Yes, he is all that," the other agreed; "but he is a sort
of fellow one does not quite understand. I like a man who is like
other fellows; Bathurst isn't. He doesn't shoot, he doesn't ride
--I mean he don't care for pig sticking; he never goes in for any
fun there may be on hand; he just works--nothing else; he does
not seem to mix with other people; he is the sort of fellow one
would say had got some sort of secret connected with him."

"If he has, I am certain it is nothing to his personal disadvantage,"
Mr. Hunter said warmly. "I have known him for the last six years--
I won't say very well, for I don't think anyone does that, except,
perhaps, Doctor Wade. When there was a wing of the regiment up
here three years ago he and Bathurst took to each other very much
--perhaps because they were both different from other people. But,
anyhow, from what I know of Bathurst I believe him to be a very
fine character, though there is certainly an amount of reserve
about him altogether unusual. At any rate, the service is a gainer
by it. I never knew a fellow work so indefatigably. He will take
a very high place in the service before he has done."

"I am not so sure of that," the other said. "He is a man with
opinions of his own, and all sorts of crotchets and fads. He has
been in hot water with the Chief Commissioner more than once. When
I was over at Lucknow last I was chatting with two or three men,
and his name happened to crop up, and one of them said, 'Bathurst
is a sort of knight errant, an official Don Quixote. Perhaps the best
officer in the province in some respects, but hopelessly impracticable.'"

"Yes, that I can quite understand, Garnet. That sort of man is never
popular with the higher official, whose likings go to the man who
does neither too much nor too little, who does his work without
questioning, and never thinks of making suggestions, and is a mere
official machine. Men of Bathurst's type, who go to the bottom of
things, protest against what they consider unfair decisions, and
send in memorandums showing that their superiors are hopelessly
ignorant and idiotically wrong, are always cordially disliked.
Still, they generally work their way to the front in the long run.
Well, I must be off."

Bathurst rode to Narkeet without drawing rein. His horse at times
slackened its pace on its own accord, but an almost mechanical motion
from its rider's heel soon started it off again at the rapid pace
at which its rider ordinarily traveled. From the time he left
Deennugghur to his arrival at Narkeet no thought of the dreaded
man eater entered Bathurst's mind. He was deeply meditating on
a memorandum he was about to draw up, respecting a decision that
had been arrived at in a case between a Talookdar in his district
and the Government, and in which, as it appeared to him, a wholly
erroneous and unjust view had been taken as to the merits of the
case; and he only roused himself when the horse broke into a walk
as it entered the village. Two or three of the head men, with many
bows and salutations of respect, came out to receive him.

"My lord sahib has seen nothing of the tiger?" the head man said;
"our hearts were melted with fear, for the evil beast was heard
roaring in the jungle not far from the road early this morning."

"I never gave it a thought, one way or the other," Bathurst said,
as he dismounted. "I fancy the horse would have let me know if
the brute had been anywhere near. See that he is tied up in the
shed, and has food and water, and put a boy to keep the flies from
worrying him. And now let us get to business. First of all, I must
go through the village records and documents; after that I will
question four or five of the oldest inhabitants, and then we must
go over the ground. The whole question turns, you know, upon whether
the irrigation ditch mentioned in the Talookdar's grant is the one
that runs across at the foot of the rising ground on his side, or
whether it is the one that sweeps round on this side of the grove
with the little temple in it. Unfortunately most of the best land
lies between those ditches."

For hours Bathurst listened to the statements of the old people of
the village, cross questioning them closely, and sparing no efforts
to sift the truth from their confused and often contradictory evidence.
Then he spent two hours going over the ground and endeavoring to
satisfy himself which of the two ditches was the one named in the
village records. He had two days before taken equal pains in sifting
the evidence on the other side.

"I trust that my lord sees there can be no doubt as to the justice
of our claim," the head man said humbly, as he prepared to mount
again.

"According to your point of view, there is no doubt about it, Childee;
but then there is equally no doubt the other way, according to the
statements they put forward. But that is generally the way in all
these land disputes. For good hard swearing your Hindoo cultivator
can be matched against the world. Unfortunately there is nothing
either in your grant or in your neighbors' that specifies unmistakably
which of these ancient ditches is the one referred to. My present
impression is that it is essentially a case for a compromise, but
you know the final decision does not rest on me. I shall be out
here again next week, and I shall write to the Talookdar to meet
me here, and we will go over the ground together again, and see if
we cannot arrange some line that will be fair to both parties. If
we can do that, the matter would be settled without expense and
trouble; whereas, if it goes up to Lucknow it may all have to be
gone into again; and if the decision is given against you, and as
far as I can see it is just as likely to be one way as another, it
will be a serious thing for the village."

"We are in my lord's hands," the native said; "he is the protector
of the poor, and will do us justice."

"I will do you justice, Childee, but I must do justice to the other
side too. Of course, neither of you will be satisfied, but that
cannot be helped."

His perfect knowledge of their language, the pains he took to sift
all matters brought before him to the bottom, had rendered the young
officer very popular among the natives. They knew they could get
justice from him direct. There was no necessity to bribe underlings:
he had the knack of extracting the truth from the mass of lying
evidence always forthcoming in native cases; and even the defeated
party admired the manner in which the fabric of falsehood was pulled
to pieces. But the main reason of his popularity was his sympathy,
the real interest which he showed in their cases, and the patience
with which he listened to their stories.

Bathurst himself, as he rode homewards, was still thinking of the
case. Of course there had been lying on both sides; but to that
he was accustomed. It was a question of importance--of greater
importance, no doubt, to the villagers than to their opponent, but
still important to him--for this tract of land was a valuable
one, and of considerable extent, and there was really nothing in the
documents produced on either side to show which ditch was intended
by the original grants. Evidently, at the time they were made, very
many years before, one ditch or the other was not in existence; but
there was no proof as to which was the more recent, although both
sides professed that all traditions handed down to them asserted
the ditch on their side to be the more recent.

He was riding along the road through the great jungle, at his horse's
own pace, which happened for the moment to be a gentle trot, when
a piercing cry rang through the air a hundred yards ahead. Bathurst
started from his reverie, and spurred his horse sharply; the animal
dashed forward at a gallop. At a turn in the road he saw, twenty
yards ahead of him, a tiger, standing with a foot upon a prostrate
figure, while a man in front of it was gesticulating wildly. The
tiger stood as if hesitating whether to strike down the figure in
front or to content itself with that already in its power.

The wild shouts of the man had apparently drowned the sound of the
horse's feet upon the soft road, for the animal drew back half a
pace as it suddenly came into view.

The horse swerved at the sight, and reared high in the air as
Bathurst drove his spurs into it. As its feet touched the ground
again, Bathurst sprang off and rushed at the tiger, and brought
down the heavy lash of his whip with all his force across its head.
With a fierce snarl it sprang back two paces, but again and again
the whip descended upon it, and bewildered and amazed at the attack
it turned swiftly and sprang through the bushes.

Bathurst, knowing that there was no fear of its returning, turned
at once to the figure on the road. It was, as in even the momentary
glance he had noticed, a woman, or rather a girl of some fourteen
or fifteen years of age--the man had dropped on his knees beside
her, moaning and muttering incoherent words.

"I see no blood," Bathurst said, and stooping, lifted the light
figure. "Her heart beats, man; I think she has only fainted. The
tiger must have knocked her down in its spring without striking
her. So far as I can see she is unhurt."

He carried her to the horse, which stood trembling a few yards
away, took a flask from the holster, and poured a little brandy
and water between her lips.

Presently there was a faint sigh. "She is coming round," he said
to the man, who was still kneeling, looking on with vacant eyes,
as though he had neither heard nor comprehended what Bathurst was
doing. Presently the girl moved slightly and opened her eyes. At
first there was no expression in them; then a vague wonder stole
into them at the white face looking down upon her.

She closed them again, and then reopened them, and then there was
a slight struggle to free herself. He allowed her to slip through
his arms until her feet touched the ground; then her eyes fell on
the kneeling figure.

"Father!" she exclaimed. With a cry the man leaped to his feet,
sprang to her and seized her in his arms, and poured out words
of endearment. Then suddenly he released her and threw himself
on the ground before Bathurst, with ejaculations of gratitude and
thankfulness.

"Get up, man, get up," the latter said; "your daughter can scarce
stand alone, and the sooner we get away from this place the better;
that savage beast is not likely to return, but he may do so; let
us be off."

He mounted his horse again, brought it up to the side of the girl,
and then, leaning over, took her and swung her into the saddle in
front of him. The man took up a large box that was lying in the
road and hoisted it onto his shoulders, and then, at a foot's pace,
they proceeded on their way--Bathurst keeping a close watch on
the jungle at the side on which the tiger had entered it.

"How came you to travel along this road alone?" he asked the man.
"The natives only venture through in large parties, because of this
tiger."

"I am a stranger," the man answered; "I heard at the village where
we slept last night that there was a tiger in this jungle, but
I thought we should be through it before nightfall, and therefore
there was no danger. If one heeded all they say about tigers one
would never travel at all. I am a juggler, and we are on our way
down the country through Cawnpore and Allahabad. Had it not been
for the valor of my lord sahib, we should never have got there; for
had I lost my Rabda, the light of my heart, I should have gone no
further, but should have waited for the tiger to take me also."

"There was no particular valor about it," Bathurst said shortly.
"I saw the beast with its foot on your daughter, and dismounted to
beat it off just as if it had been a dog, without thinking whether
there was any danger in it or not. Men do it with savage beasts
in menageries every day. They are cowardly brutes after all, and
can't stand the lash. He was taken altogether by surprise, too."

"My lord has saved my daughter's life, and mine is at his service
henceforth," the man said. "The mouse is a small beast, but he may
warn the lion. The white sahibs are brave and strong. Would one of
my countrymen have ventured his life to attack a tiger, armed only
with a whip, for the sake of the life of a poor wayfarer?"

"Yes, I think there are many who would have done so," Bathurst
replied. "You do your countrymen injustice. There are plenty of
brave men among them, and I have heard before now of villagers,
armed only with sticks, attacking a tiger who has carried off a
victim from among them. You yourself were standing boldly before
it when I came up."

"My child was under its feet--besides, I never thought of myself.
If I had had a weapon I should not have drawn it. I had no thought
of the tiger; I only thought that my child was dead. She works with
me, sahib; since her mother died, five years ago, we have traveled
together over the country; she plays while I conjure. She takes
round the saucer for the money, and she acts with me in the tricks
that require two persons; it is she who disappears from the basket.
We are everything to each other, sahib. But what is my lord's name?
Will he tell his servant, that he and Rabda may think of him and
talk of him as they tramp the roads together?"

"My name is Ralph Bathurst. I am District Officer at Deennugghur.
How far are you going this evening?"

"We shall sleep at the first village we come to, sahib; we have
walked many hours today, and this box, though its contents are not
weighty, is heavy to bear. We thought of going down tomorrow to
Deennugghur, and showing our performances to the sahib logue there."

"Very well; but there is one thing--what is your name?"

"Rujub."

"Well, Rujub, if you go on to Deennugghur tomorrow say nothing to
anyone there about this affair with the tiger; it is nothing to
talk about. I am not a shikari, but a hard working official, and
I don't want to be talked about."

"The sahib's wish shall be obeyed," the man said.

"You can come round to my bungalow and ask for me; I shall be glad
to hear whether your daughter is any the worse for her scare. How
do you feel, Rabda?"

"I feel as one in a dream, sahib. I saw a great yellow beast
springing through the air, and I cried out, and knew nothing more
till I saw the sahib's face; and now I have heard him and my father
talking, but their voices sound to me as if far away, though I know
that you are holding me."

"You will be all the better after a night's rest, child; no wonder
you feel strange and shaken. Another quarter of an hour and we
shall be at the village. I suppose, Rujub, you were born a conjurer."

"Yes, sahib, it is always so; it goes down from father to son. As
soon as I was able to walk, I began to work with my father, and
as I grew up he initiated me in the secrets of our craft, which we
may never divulge."

"No, I know they are a mystery. Many of your tricks can be done
by our conjurers at home, but there are some that have never been
solved."

"I have been offered, more than once, large sums by English sahibs
to tell them how some of the feats were done, but I could not; we
are bound by terrible oaths, and; in no case has a juggler proved
false to them. Were one to do so he would be slain without mercy,
and his fate in the next world would be terrible; forever and
forever his soul would pass through the bodies of the foulest and
lowest creatures, and there would be no forgiveness for him. I would
give my life for the sahib, but even to him I would not divulge
our mysteries."

In a few minutes they came to the first village beyond the jungle.
As they approached it Bathurst checked his horse and lifted the
girl down. She took his hand and pressed her forehead to it.

"I shall see you tomorrow, then, Rujub," he said, and shaking the
reins, went on at a canter.

"That is a new character for me to come out in," he said bitterly;
"I do not know myself--I, of all men. But there was no bravery
in it; it never occurred to me to be afraid; I just thrashed him
off as I should beat off a dog who was killing a lamb; there was no
noise, and it is noise that frightens me; if the brute had roared
I should assuredly have run; I know it would have been so; I could
not have helped it to have saved my life. It is an awful curse that
I am not as other men, and that I tremble and shake like a girl
at the sound of firearms. It would have been better if I had been
killed by the first shot fired in the Punjaub eight years ago, or
if I had blown my brains out at the end of the day. Good Heavens!
what have I suffered since. But I will not think of it. Thank God,
I have got my work; and as long as I keep my thoughts on that there
is no room for that other;" and then, by a great effort of will,
Ralph Bathurst put the past behind him, and concentrated his thoughts
on the work on which he had been that day engaged.

The juggler did not arrive on the following evening as he had expected,
but late in the afternoon a native boy brought in a message from
him, saying that his daughter was too shaken and ill to travel,
but that they would come when she recovered.

A week later, on returning from a long day's work, Bathurst was
told that a juggler was in the veranda waiting to see him.

"I told him, sahib," the servant said, "that you cared not for
such entertainments, and that he had better go elsewhere; but he
insisted that you yourself had told him to come, and so I let him
wait."

"Has he a girl with him, Jafur?"

"Yes, sahib."

Bathurst strolled round to the other side of the bungalow, where
Rujub was sitting patiently, with Rabda wrapped in her blue cloth
beside him. They rose to their feet.

"I am glad to see your daughter is better again, Rujub."

"She is better, sahib; she has had fever, but is restored."

"I cannot see your juggling tonight, Rujub. I have had a heavy
day's work, and am worn out, and have still much to do. You had
better go round to some of the other bungalows; though I don't think
you will do much this evening, for there is a dinner party at the
Collector's, and almost everyone will be there. My servants will
give you food, and I shall be off at seven o'clock in the morning,
but shall be glad to see you before I start. Are you in want of
money?" and he put his hand in his pocket.

"No, sahib," the juggler said. "We have money sufficient for all
our wants; we are not thinking of performing tonight, for Rabda
is not equal to it. Before sunrise we shall be on our way again;
I must be at Cawnpore, and we have delayed too long already. Could
you give us but half an hour tonight, sahib; we will come at any
hour you like. I would show you things that few Englishmen have seen.
Not mere common tricks, sahib, but mysteries such as are known to
few even of us. Do not say no, sahib."

"Well, if you wish it, Rujub, I will give you half an hour," and
Bathurst looked at his watch. "It is seven now, and I have to dine.
I have work to do that will take me three hours at least, but at
eleven I shall have finished. You will see a light in my room; come
straight to the open window."

"We will be there, sahib;" and with a salaam the juggler walked
off, followed by his daughter.

A few minutes before the appointed time Bathurst threw down his
pen with a little sigh of satisfaction.

The memo he had just finished was a most conclusive one; it seemed
to him unanswerable, and that the Department would have trouble in
disputing his facts and figures. He had not since he sat down to
his work given another thought to the juggler, and he almost started
as a figure appeared in the veranda at the open window.

"Ah, Rujub, is it you? I have just finished my work. Come in; is
Rabda with you?"

"She will remain outside until I want her," the juggler said as
he entered and squatted himself on the floor. "I am not going to
juggle, sahib. With us there are two sorts of feats; there are those
that are performed by sleight of hand or by means of assistance.
These are the juggler's tricks we show in the verandas and compounds
of the white sahibs, and in the streets of the cities. There are
others that are known only to the higher order among us, that we
show only on rare occasions. They have come to us from the oldest
times, and it is said they were brought by wise men from Egypt;
but that I know not."

"I have always been interested in juggling, and have seen many
things that I cannot understand," Bathurst said. "I have seen the
basket trick done on the road in front of the veranda, as well as
in other places, and I cannot in any way account for it."

The juggler took from his basket a piece of wood about two feet in
length and some four inches in diameter.

"You see this?" he said.

Bathurst took it in his hand. "It looks like a bit sawn off a
telegraph pole," he said.

"Will you come outside, sahib?"

The night was very dark, but the lamp on the table threw its light
through the window onto the drive in front of the veranda. Rujub
took with him a piece of wood about nine inches square, with a soft
pad on the top. He went out in the drive and placed the piece of
pole upright, and laid the wood with the cushion on the top.

"Now will you stand in the veranda a while?"

Bathurst stood back by the side of the window so as not to interfere
with the passage of the light. Rabda stole forward and sat down
upon the cushion.

"Now watch, sahib."

Bathurst looked, and saw the block of wood apparently growing.
Gradually it rose until Rabda passed up beyond the light in the
room.

"You may come out," the juggler said, "but do not touch the pole.
If you do, it will cause a fall, which would be fatal to my child."

Bathurst stepped out and looked up. He could but just make out
the figure of Rabda, seemingly already higher than the top of the
bungalow. Gradually it became more and more indistinct.

"You are there, Rabda?" her father said.

"I am here, father!" and the voice seemed to come from a considerable
distance.

Again and again the question was asked, and the answer became
fainter and fainter, although it sounded as if it was a distant
cry in response to Rujub's shout rather than spoken in an ordinary
voice.

At last no response was heard.

"Now it shall descend," the juggler said.

Two or three minutes passed, and then Bathurst, who was staring
up into the darkness, could make out the end of the pole with the
seat upon it, but Rabda was no longer there. Rapidly it sank, until
it stood its original height on the ground.

"Where is Rabda?" Bathurst exclaimed.

"She is here, my lord," and as he spoke Rabda rose from a sitting
position on the balcony close to Bathurst.

"It is marvelous!" the latter exclaimed. "I have heard of that feat
before, but have never seen it. May I take up that piece of wood?"

"Assuredly, sahib."

Bathurst took it up and carried it to the light. It was undoubtedly,
as he had before supposed, a piece of solid wood. The juggler had
not touched it, or he would have supposed he might have substituted
for the piece he first examined a sort of telescope of thin sheets of
steel, but even that would not have accounted for Rabda's disappearance.

"I will show you one other feat, my lord."

He took a brass dish, placed a few pieces of wood and charcoal in
it, struck a match, and set the wood on fire, and then fanned it
until the wood had burned out, and the charcoal was in a glow; then
he sprinkled some powder upon it, and a dense white smoke rose.

"Now turn out the lamp, sahib."

Bathurst did so. The glow of the charcoal enabled him still to see
the light smoke; this seemed to him to become clearer and clearer.

"Now for the past!" Rujub said. The smoke grew brighter and
brighter, and mixed with flashes of color; presently Bathurst saw
clearly an Indian scene. A village stood on a crest, jets of smoke
darted up from between the houses, and then a line of troops in
scarlet uniform advanced against the village, firing as they went.
They paused for a moment, and then with a rush went at the village
and disappeared in the smoke over the crest.

"Good Heavens," Bathurst muttered, "it is the battle of Chillianwalla!"

"The future!" Rujub said, and the colors on the smoke changed.
Bathurst saw a wall surrounding a courtyard. On one side was a
house. It had evidently been besieged, for in the upper part were
many ragged holes, and two of the windows were knocked into one.
On the roof were men firing, and there were one or two women among
them. He could see their faces and features distinctly. In the
courtyard wall there was a gap, and through this a crowd of Sepoys
were making their way, while a handful of whites were defending
a breastwork. Among them he recognized his own figure. He saw
himself club his rifle and leap down into the middle of the Sepoys,
fighting furiously there. The colors faded away, and the room was
in darkness again. There was the crack of a match, and then Rujub
said quietly, "If you will lift off the globe again, I will light
the lamp, sahib."

Bathurst almost mechanically did as he was told.

"Well, sahib, what do you think of the pictures?"

"The first was true," Bathurst said quietly, "though, how you knew
I was with the regiment that stormed the village at Chillianwalla
I know not. The second is certainly not true."

"You can never know what the future will be, sahib," the juggler
said gravely.

"That is so," Bathurst said; "but I know enough of myself to say
that it cannot be true. I do not say that the Sepoys can never be
fighting against whites, improbable as it seems, but that I was
doing what that figure did is, I know, impossible."

"Time will show, sahib," the juggler said; "the pictures never lie.
Shall I show you other things?"

"No, Rujub, you have shown me enough; you have astounded me. I want
to see no more tonight."

"Then farewell, sahib; we shall meet again, I doubt not, and mayhap
I may be able to repay the debt I owe you;" and Rujub, lifting his
basket, went out through the window without another word.



CHAPTER III.


Some seven or eight officers were sitting round the table in the
messroom of the 103d Bengal Infantry at Cawnpore. It had been a
guest night, but the strangers had left, the lights had been turned
out in the billiard room overhead, the whist party had broken up,
and the players had rejoined three officers who had remained at
table smoking and talking quietly.

Outside, through the open French windows, the ground looked as if
sprinkled with snow beneath the white light of the full moon. Two
or three of the mess servants were squatting in the veranda, talking
in low voices. A sentry walked backwards and forwards by the gate
leading into the mess house compound; beyond, the maidan stretched
away flat and level to the low huts of the native lines on the
other side.

"So the Doctor comes back tomorrow, Major," the Adjutant, who had
been one of the whist party, said. "I shall be very glad to have
him back. In the first place, he is a capital fellow, and keeps
us all alive; secondly, he is a good deal better doctor than the
station surgeon who has been looking after the men since we have
been here; and lastly, if I had got anything the matter with me
myself, I would rather be in his hands than those of anyone else
I know."

"Yes, I agree with you, Prothero; the Doctor is as good a fellow as
ever stepped. There is no doubt about his talent in his profession;
and there are a good many of us who owed our lives to him when
we were down with cholera, in that bad attack three years ago. He
is good all round; he is just as keen a shikari as he was when he
joined the regiment, twenty years ago; he is a good billiard player,
and one of the best storytellers I ever came across; but his best
point is that he is such a thoroughly good fellow--always ready
to do a good turn to anyone, and to help a lame dog over a stile.
I could name a dozen men in India who owe their commissions to him.
I don't know what the regiment would do without him."

"He went home on leave just after I joined," one of the subalterns
said. "Of course, I know, from all I have heard of him, that he is
an awfully good fellow, but from the little I saw of him myself,
he seemed always growling and snapping."

There was a general laugh from the others.

"Yes, that is his way, Thompson," the Major said; "he believes
himself to be one of the most cynical and morose of men."

"He was married, wasn't he, Major?"

"Yes, it was a sad business. It was only just after I joined. He
is three years senior to me in the regiment. He was appointed to
it a month or two after the Colonel joined. Well, as I say, a month
or two after I came to it, he went away on leave down to Calcutta,
where he was to meet a young lady who had been engaged to him before
he left home. They were married, and he brought her up country.
Before she had been with us a month we had one of those outbreaks
of cholera. It wasn't a very severe one. I think we only lost eight
or ten men, and no officer; but the Doctor's young wife was attacked,
and in three or four hours she was carried off. It regularly broke
him down. However, he got over it, as we all do, I suppose; and
now I think he is married to the regiment. He could have had staff
appointments a score of times, but he has always refused them.
His time is up next year, and he could go home on full pay, but I
don't suppose he will."

"And your niece arrives with him tomorrow, Major," the Adjutant
said.

"Yes, I am going to try petticoat government, Prothero. I don't
know how the experiment will succeed, but I am tired of an empty
bungalow, and I have been looking forward for some years to her
being old enough to come out and take charge. It is ten years since
I was home, and she was a little chit of eight years old at that
time."

"I think a vote of thanks ought to be passed to you, Major. We have
only married ladies in the regiment, and it will wake us up and do
us good to have Miss Hannay among us."

"There are the Colonel's daughters," the Major said, with a smile.

"Yes, there are, Major, but they hardly count; they are scarcely
conscious of the existence of poor creatures like us; nothing short
of a Resident or, at any rate, of a full blown Collector, will find
favor in their eyes."

"Well, I warn you all fairly," the Major said, "that I shall set
my face against all sorts of philandering and love making. I am
bringing my niece out here as my housekeeper and companion, and not
as a prospective wife for any of you youngsters. I hope she will
turn out to be as plain as a pikestaff, and then I may have some
hopes of keeping her with me for a time. The Doctor, in his letter
from Calcutta, says nothing as to what she is like, though he was
good enough to remark that she seemed to have a fair share of common
sense, and has given him no more trouble on the voyage than was to
be expected under the circumstances. And now, lads, it is nearly
two o'clock, and as there is early parade tomorrow, it is high time
for you to be all in your beds. What a blessing it would be if the
sun would forget to shine for a bit on this portion of the world,
and we could have an Arctic night of seven or eight months with a
full moon the whole time!"

A few minutes later the messroom was empty, the lights turned out,
and the servants wrapped up in their blankets had disposed themselves
for sleep in the veranda.

As soon as morning parade was over Major Hannay went back to his
bungalow, looked round to see that his bachelor quarters were as
bright and tidy as possible, then got into a light suit and went
down to the post house. A quarter of an hour later a cloud of dust
along the road betokened the approach of the Dak Gharry, and two
or three minutes later it dashed up at full gallop amid a loud and
continuous cracking of the driver's whip. The wiry little horses
were drawn up with a sudden jerk.

The Major opened the door. A little man sprang out and grasped him
by the hand.

"Glad to see you, Major--thoroughly glad to be back again. Here
is your niece; I deliver her safe and sound into your hands." And
between them they helped a girl to alight from the vehicle.

"I am heartily glad to see you, my dear," the Major said, as he
kissed her; "though I don't think I should have known you again."

"I should think not, uncle," the girl said. "In the first place, I
was a little girl in short frocks when I saw you last; and in the
second place, I am so covered with the dust that you can hardly see
what I am like. I think I should have known you; your visit made a
great impression upon us, though I can remember now how disappointed
we were when you first arrived that you hadn't a red coat and a
sword, as we had expected."

"Well, we may as well be off at once, Isobel; it is only five
minutes' walk to the bungalow. My man will see to your luggage being
brought up. Come along, Doctor. Of course you will put up with me
until you can look round and fix upon quarters. I told Rumzan to
bring your things round with my niece's. You have had a very pleasant
voyage out, I hope, Isobel?" he went on, as they started.

"Very pleasant, uncle, though I got rather tired of it at last."

"That is generally the way--everyone is pleasant and agreeable
at first, but before they get to the end they take to quarreling
like cats and dogs."

"We were not quite as bad as that," the girl laughed, "but we
certainly weren't as amiable the last month or so as we were during
the first part of the voyage. Still, it was very pleasant all along,
and nobody quarreled with me."

"Present company are always excepted," the Doctor said. "I stood
in loco parentis, Major, and the result has been that I shall feel
in future more charitable towards mothers of marriageable daughters.
Still, I am bound to say that Miss Hannay has given me as little
trouble as could be expected."

"You frighten me, Doctor; if you found her so onerous only for a
voyage, what have I to look forward to?"

"Well, you can't say that I didn't warn you, Major; when you wrote
home and asked me to take charge of your niece on the way out, I
told you frankly that my opinion of your good sense was shaken."

"Yes, you did express yourself with some strength," the Major laughed;
"but then one is so accustomed to that, that I did not take it to
heart as I might otherwise have done."

"That was before you knew me, Dr. Wade, otherwise I should feel
very hurt," the girl put in.

"Yes, it was," the Doctor said dryly.

"Don't mind him, my dear," her uncle said; "we all know the Doctor
of old. This is my bungalow."

"It is pretty, with all these flowers and shrubs round it," she
said admiringly.

"Yes, we have been doing a good deal of watering the last few weeks,
so as to get it to look its best. This is your special attendant;
she will take you up to your room. By the time you have had a bath,
your boxes will be here. I told them to have a cup of tea ready
for you upstairs. Breakfast will be on the table by the time you
are ready."

"Well, old friend," he said to the Doctor, when the girl had gone
upstairs, "no complications, I hope, on the voyage?"

"No, I think not," the Doctor said. "Of course, there were lots of
young puppies on board, and as she was out and out the best looking
girl in the ship half of them were dancing attendance upon her all
the voyage, but I am bound to say that she acted like a sensible
young woman; and though she was pleasant with them all, she didn't
get into any flirtation with one more than another. I did my best
to look after her, but, of course, that would have been of no good
if she had been disposed to go her own way. I fancy about half of
them proposed to her--not that she ever said as much to me--
but whenever I observed one looking sulky and giving himself airs
I could guess pretty well what had happened. These young puppies
are all alike, and we are not without experience of the species
out here.

"Seriously, Major, I think you are to be congratulated. I consider
that you ran a tremendous risk in asking a young woman, of whom you
knew nothing, to come out to you; still it has turned out well. If
she had been a frivolous, giggling thing, like most of them, I had
made up my mind to do you a good turn by helping to get her engaged
on the voyage, and should have seen her married offhand at Calcutta,
and have come up and told you that you were well out of the scrape.
As, contrary to my expectations, she turned out to be a sensible
young woman, I did my best the other way. It is likely enough you
may have her on your hands some little time, for I don't think she
is likely to be caught by the first comer. Well, I must go and have
my bath; the dust has been awful coming up from Allahabad. That
is one advantage, and the only one as far as I can see, that they
have got in England. They don't know what dust is there."

When the bell for breakfast rang, and Isobel made her appearance,
looking fresh and cool, in a light dress, the Major said, "You
must take the head of the table, my dear, and assume the reins of
government forthwith."

"Then I should say, uncle, that if any guidance is required, there
will be an upset in a very short time. No, that won't do at all.
You must go on just as you were before, and I shall look on and
learn. As far as I can see, everything is perfect just as it is.
This is a charming room, and I am sure there is no fault to be
found with the arrangement of these flowers on the table. As for
the cooking, everything looks very nice, and anyhow, if you have
not been able to get them to cook to your taste, it is of no use
my attempting anything in that way. Besides, I suppose I must learn
something of the language before I can attempt to do anything. No,
uncle, I will sit in this chair if you like, and make tea and pour
it out, but that is the beginning and the end of my assumption of
the head of the establishment at present."

"Well, Isobel, I hardly expected that you were going to run the
establishment just at first; indeed, as far as that goes, one's
butler, if he is a good man, has pretty well a free hand. He is
generally responsible, and is in fact what we should call at home
housekeeper--he and the cook between them arrange everything.
I say to him, 'Three gentlemen are coming to tiffen.' He nods and
says 'Atcha, sahib,' which means 'All right, sir,' and then I know
it will be all right. If I have a fancy for any special thing, of
course I say so. Otherwise, I leave it to them, and if the result
is not satisfactory, I blow up. Nothing can be more simple."

"But how about bills, uncle?"

"Well, my dear, the butler gives them to me, and I pay them. He
has been with me a good many years, and will not let the others--
that is to say, the cook and the syce, the washerman, and so on,
cheat me beyond a reasonable amount. Do you, Rumzan?"

Rumzan, who was standing behind the Major's chair, in a white turban
and dress, with a red and white sash round his waist, smiled.

"Rumzan not let anyone rob his master."

"Not to any great extent, you know, Rumzan. One doesn't expect more
than that."

"It is just the same here, Miss Hannay, as it is everywhere else,"
said the Doctor; "only in big establishments in England they rob
you of pounds, while here they rob you of annas, which, as I have
explained to you, are two pence halfpennies. The person who undertakes
to put down little peculations enters upon a war in which he is
sure to get the worst of it. He wastes his time, spoils his temper,
makes himself and everyone around him uncomfortable, and after all
he is robbed. Life is too short for it, especially in a climate
like this. Of course, in time you get to understand the language;
if you see anything in the bills that strikes you as showing waste
you can go into the thing, but as a rule you trust entirely to your
butler; if you cannot trust him, get another one. Rumzan has been
with your uncle ten years, so you are fortunate. If the Major
had gone home instead of me, and if you had had an entirely fresh
establishment of servants to look after, the case would have been
different; as it is, you will have no trouble that way."

"Then what are my duties to be, uncle?"

"Your chief duties, my dear, are to look pleasant, which will
evidently be no trouble to you; to amuse me and keep me in a good
temper as far as possible; to keep on as good terms as may be with
the other ladies of the station; and, what will perhaps be the most
difficult part of your work, to snub and keep in order the young
officers of our own and other corps."

Isobel laughed. "That doesn't sound a very difficult programme,
uncle, except the last item; I have already had a little experience
that way, haven't I, Doctor? I hope I shall have the benefit of
your assistance in the future, as I had aboard the ship."

"I will do my best," the Doctor said grimly; "but the British
subaltern is pretty well impervious to snubs; he belongs to the
pachydermatous family of animals; his armor of self conceit renders
him invulnerable against the milder forms of raillery. However, I
think you can be trusted to hold your own with him, Miss Hannay,
without much assistance from the Major or myself. Your real difficulty
will lie rather in your struggle against the united female forces
of the station."

"But why shall I have to struggle with them?" Isobel asked, in
surprise, while her uncle broke into a laugh.

"Don't frighten her, Doctor."

"She is not so easily frightened, Major; it is just as well that
she should be prepared. Well, my dear Miss Hannay, Indian society
has this peculiarity, that the women never grow old. At least,"
he continued, in reply to the girl's look of surprise, "they are
never conscious of growing old. At home a woman's family grows up
about her, and are constant reminders that she is becoming a matron.
Here the children are sent away when they get four or five years
old, and do not appear on the scene again until they are grown
up. Then, too, ladies are greatly in the minority, and they are
accustomed to be made vastly more of than they are at home, and
the consequence is that the amount of envy, hatred, jealousy, and
all uncharitableness is appalling."

"No, no, Doctor, not as bad as that," the Major remonstrated.

"Every bit as bad as that," the Doctor said stoutly. "I am not a
woman hater, far from it; but I have felt sometimes that if John
Company, in its beneficence, would pass a decree absolutely excluding
the importation of white women into India it would be an unmixed
blessing."

"For shame, Doctor," Isobel Hannay said; "and to think that I should
have such a high opinion of you up to now."

"I can't help it, my dear; my experience is that for ninety-nine
out of every hundred unpleasantnesses that take place out here,
women are in one way or another responsible. They get up sets and
cliques, and break up what might be otherwise pleasant society into
sections. Talk about caste amongst natives; it is nothing to the
caste among women out here. The wife of a civilian of high rank looks
down upon the wives of military men, the general's wife looks down
upon a captain's, and so right through from the top to the bottom.

"It is not so among the men, or at any rate to a very much smaller
extent. Of course, some men are pompous fools, but, as a rule, if
two men meet, and both are gentlemen, they care nothing as to what
their respective ranks may be. A man may be a lord or a doctor, a
millionaire or a struggling barrister, but they meet on equal terms
in society; but out here it is certainly not so among the women
--they stand upon their husband's dignity in a way that would be
pitiable if it were not exasperating. Of course, there are plenty
of good women among them, as there are everywhere--women whom
even India can't spoil; but what with exclusiveness, and with the
amount of admiration and adulation they get, and what with the
want of occupation for their thoughts and minds, it is very hard
for them to avoid getting spoilt."

"Well, I hope I shan't get spoilt, Doctor; and I hope, if you see
that I am getting spoilt, you will make a point of telling me so
at once."

The Doctor grunted. "Theoretically, people are always ready to receive
good advice, Miss Hannay; practically they are always offended by
it. However, in your case I will risk it, and I am bound to say
that hitherto you have proved yourself more amenable in that way
than most young women I have come across."

"And now, if we have done, we will go out on the veranda," the
Major said. "I am sure the Doctor must be dying for a cheroot."

"The Doctor has smoked pretty continuously since we left Allahabad,"
Isobel said. "He wanted to sit up with the driver, but, of course,
I would not have that. I had got pretty well accustomed to smoke
coming out, and even if I had not been I would much rather have
been almost suffocated than have been in there by myself. I thought
a dozen times the vehicle was going to upset, and what with the
bumping and the shouting and the cracking of the whip--especially
when the horses wouldn't start, which was generally the case at
first--I should have been frightened out of my life had I been
alone. It seemed to me that something dreadful was always going to
happen."

"You can take it easy this morning, Isobel," the Major said, when
they were comfortably seated in the bamboo lounges in the veranda.
"You want have any callers today, as it will be known you traveled
all night. People will imagine that you want a quiet day before
you are on show."

"What a horrid expression, uncle!"

"Well, my dear, it represents the truth. The arrival of a fresh lady
from England, especially of a 'spin,' which is short for spinster
or unmarried woman, is an event of some importance in an Indian
station. Not, of course, so much in a place like this, because
this is the center of a large district, but in a small station it
is an event of the first importance. The men are anxious to see what
a newcomer is like for herself; the women, to look at her dresses
and see the latest fashions from home, and also to ascertain whether
she is likely to turn out a formidable rival. However, today you
can enjoy quiet; tomorrow you must attire yourself in your most
becoming costume, and I will trot you round."

"Trot me round, uncle?"

"Yes, my dear. In India the order of procedure is reversed, and
newcomers call in the first place upon residents."

"What a very unpleasant custom, uncle; especially as some of the
residents may not want to know them."

"Well, everyone must know everyone else in a station, my dear,
though they may not wish to be intimate. So. about half past one
tomorrow we will start."

"What, in the heat of the day, uncle?"

"Yes, my dear. That is another of the inscrutable freaks of Indian
fashion. The hours for calling are from about half past twelve to
half past two, just in the hottest hours. I don't pretend to account
for it."

How many ladies are there in the regiment?"

"There is the Colonel's wife, Mrs. Cromarty. She has two grown up
red headed girls," replied the Doctor. "She is a distant relation
--a second cousin--of some Scotch lord or other, and, on the
strength of that and her husband's colonelcy, gives herself prodigious
airs. Three of the captains are married. Mrs. Doolan is a merry
little Irish woman. You will like her. She has two or three children.
She is a general favorite in the regiment.

"Mrs. Rintoul--I suppose she is here still, Major, and unchanged?
Ah, I thought so. She is a washed-out woman, without a spark of
energy in her composition.-' She believes that she is a chronic
invalid, and sends for me on an average once a week. But there is
nothing really the matter with her, if she would but only believe
it. Mrs. Roberts--"

"Don't be ill natured, Doctor," the Major broke in. "Mrs. Roberts,
my dear, is a good-looking woman, and a general flirt. I don't think
there is any harm in her whatever. Mrs. Prothero, the Adjutant's
wife, has only been out here eighteen months, and is a pretty little
woman, and in all respects nice.-There is only one other, Mrs.
Scarsdale; she came out six months ago. She is a quiet young woman,
with, I should say, plenty of common sense: I should think you will
like her. That completes the regimental list."

"Well, that is not so very formidable. Anyhow, it is a. comfort
that we shall have no one here today."

"You will have the whole regiment here in a few minutes, Isobel,
but they will be coming to see the Doctor, not you; if it hadn't
been that they knew you were under his charge everyone would have
come down to meet him when he arrived. But if you feel tired, as
I am sure you must be after your journey, there is no reason why
you shouldn't go and lie down quietly for a few hours."

"I will stop here, uncle; it will be much less embarrassing to see
them all for the first time when they come to see Dr. Wade and I am
quite a secondary consideration, than if they had to come specially
to call on me."

"Well, I agree with you there, my dear. Ah! here come Doolan and
Prothero."

A light trap drove into the inclosure and drew up in front of the
veranda, and two officers jumped down,-whilst the syce, who had
been standing on a step behind, ran to the horse's head. They hailed
the Doctor, as he stepped out from the veranda, with a shout.

"Glad to see you back, Doctor. The regiment has not seemed like
itself without you."

"We have been just pining without you, Doctor," Captain Doolan
said; "and the ladies would have got up a deputation to meet you on
your arrival, only I told them that it would be too much for your
modesty."

"Well, it is a good thing that someone has a little of that quality
in the regiment, Doolan," the Doctor said, as he shook hands heartily
with them both. "It is very little of it that fell to the share of
Ireland when it was served out."

As they dropped the Doctor's hand the Major said, "Now, gentlemen,
let me introduce you to my niece." The introductions were made,
and the whole party took chairs on the veranda.

"Do you object to smoking, Miss Hannay; perhaps you have not got
accustomed to it yet? I see the Doctor is-smoking; but then he is
a privileged person, altogether beyond rule."

"I rather like it in the open air," Isobel said. "No doubt I shall
get accustomed to it indoors before long."

In a few minutes four or five more of the officers arrived, and
Isobel sat an amused listener to the talk; taking but little part
in it herself, but gathering a good deal of information as to
the people at the station from the answers given to the Doctor's
inquiries. It was very much like the conversation on board ship,
except that the topics of conversation were wider and more numerous,
and there was a community of interest wanting on board a ship.
In half an hour, however, the increasing warmth and her sleepless
night began to tell upon her, and her uncle, seeing that she was
beginning to look fagged, said, "The best thing that you can do,
Isobel, is to go indoors for a bit, and have a good nap. At five
o'clock I will take you round for a drive, and show you the sights
of Cawnpore."

"I do feel sleepy," she said, "though it sounds rude to say so."

"Not at all," the Doctor put in; "if any of these young fellows had
made the journey out from Allahabad in that wretched gharry, they
would have turned into bed as soon as they arrived, and would not
have got up till the first mess bugle sounded, and very likely
would have slept on until next morning.

"Now," he went on, when Isobel had disappeared, "we will adjourn
with you to the mess-house. That young lady would have very small
chance of getting to sleep with all this racket here. Doolan's voice
alone would banish sleep anywhere within a distance of a hundred
yards."

"I will join you there later, Doctor," the Major said. "I have got
a couple of hours' work in the orderly-room. Rumzan, don't let my
niece be disturbed, but if she wakes and rings the bell send up a
message by the woman that I-shall not be back until four."

The Major walked across to the orderly room, while the rest, mounting
their buggies, drove to the mess-house, which was a quarter of a
mile away.

"I should think Miss Hannay will prove a valuable addition to our
circle, Doctor," the Adjutant said. "I don't know why, but I gathered
from what the Major said that his niece was very young. He spoke
of her as if she were quite a child."

"She is a very nice, sensible young woman," the Doctor said;
"clever and bright, and, as you can see for your-selves, pretty,
and yet no nonsense about her. I only hope that she won't get spoilt
here; nineteen out of twenty young women do get spoilt within six
months of their arrival in India, but I think she will be one of
the exceptions."

"I should have liked to have seen the Doctor doing chaperon,"
Captain Doolan laughed; "he would have been a brave man who would
have attempted even the faintest flirtation with anyone under his
charge."

"That is your opinion, is it, Doolan?" the Doctor said sharply. "I
should have thought that even your common sense would have told you
that anyone who has had the misfortune to see as much of womankind
as I have would have been aware that any endeavor to check a
flirtation for which they are inclined would be of all others the
way to induce them to go in for it headlong. You are a married
man yourself, and ought to know that. A woman is a good deal like
a spirited horse; let her have her head, and, though she may for
a time make the pace pretty fast, she will go straight, and settle
down to her collar in time, whereas if you keep a tight curb she
will fret and fidget, and as likely as not make a bolt for it. I
can assure you that my duties were of The most nominal description.
There were the usual number of hollow pated lads on board, who
buzzed in their usual feeble way round Miss Hannay, and were one
after another duly snubbed. Miss Hannay has plenty of spirits, and
a considerable sense of humor, and I think that she enjoyed the
voyage thoroughly. And now let us talk of something else."

After an hour's chat the Doctor started on his round of calls
upon the ladies; the Major had not come in from the orderly room,
and, after the Doctor left, Isobel Hannay was again the topic of
conversation.

"She is out and out the prettiest girl in the station," the Adjutant
said to some of the officers who had not seen her. "She will make
quite a sensation; and there are five or six ladies in the station,
whose names I need hardly mention, who will not be very pleased
at her coming. She is thoroughly in good form, too; nothing
in the slightest degree fast or noisy about her. She is quiet and
self-possessed. I fancy she will be able to hold her own against
any of them. Clever? I should say 'certainly'; but, of course,
that is from her face rather than from anything she said. I expect
half the unmarried men in the station will be going wild over her.
You need not look so interested, Wilson; the matter is of no more
personal interest to you than if I were describing a new comet.
Nothing less than a big civilian is likely to carry off such a
prize, so I warn you beforehand you had better not be losing your
heart to her."

"Well, you know, Prothero, subalterns do manage to get wives
sometimes."

There was a laugh.

"That is true enough, Wilson; but then, you see, I married at home;
besides, I am adjutant, which sounds a lot better than subaltern."

"That may go for a good deal in the regiment," Wilson retorted, "but
I doubt if there are many women that know the difference between
an adjutant and a quartermaster. They know about colonels, majors,
captains, and even subalterns; but if you were to say that you
were an adjutant they would be simply mystified, though they might
understand if you said bandmaster. But I fancy sergeant major would
sound ever so much more imposing."

"Wilson, if you are disrespectful, I shall discover tomorrow, on
parade, that No. 3 Company wants a couple of hours' extra drill
badly, and then you will feel how grievous a mistake it is to cheek
an adjutant."

The report of those who had called at the Major's was so favorable
that curiosity was quite roused as to the new-comer, and when the
Major drove round with her the next day everyone was at home, and
the verdict on the part of the ladies was generally favorable, but
was by no means so unqualified as that of the gentlemen.

Mrs. Cromarty admitted that she was nice looking; but was critical
as to her carriage and manner. She would be admired by young officers,
no doubt, but there was too much life and animation about her, and
although she would not exactly say that she stooped, she was likely
to do so in time.

"She will be nothing remarkable when her freshness has worn off a
little."

In this opinion the Misses Cromarty thoroughly assented. They had
never been accused of stooping, and, indeed, were almost painfully
upright, and were certainly not particularly admired by subalterns.

Mrs. Doolan was charmed with her, and told her she hoped that they
would be great friends.

"This is a very pleasant life out here, my dear," she said, "if one
does but take it in the right way. There is a great deal of tittle
tattle in the Indian stations, and some quarreling; but, you know,
it takes two to make a quarrel, and I make it a point never to
quarrel with anyone. It is too hot for it. Then, you see, I have
the advantage of being Irish, and, for some reason or other that
I don't understand we can say pretty nearly what we like. People
don't take us seriously, you know; so I keep in with them all."

Mrs. Rintoul received her visitors on the sofa. "It is quite
refreshing to see a face straight from England, Miss Hannay. I only
hope that you may keep your bright color and healthy looks. Some
people do. Not their color, but their health. Unfortunately I am
not one of them. I do not know what it is to have a day's health.
The climate completely oppresses me, and I am fit for nothing.
You would hardly believe that I was as strong and healthy as you
are when I first came out. You came out with Dr. Wade--a clever
man--I have a very high opinion of his talent, but my case is
beyond him. It is a sad annoyance to him that it is so, and he is
continually trying to make me believe that there is nothing the
matter with me, as if my looks did not speak for themselves."

Mrs. Rintoul afterwards told her husband she could hardly say that
she liked Miss Hannay.

"She is distressingly brisk and healthy, and I should say, my dear,
not of a sympathetic nature, which is always a pity in a young
woman."

After this somewhat depressing visit, the call upon Mrs. Roberts
was a refreshing one. She received her very cordially.

"I like you, Miss Hannay," she said, when, after a quarter of
an hour's lively talk, the Major and his niece got up to go. "I
always say what I think, and it is very good natured of me to say
so, for I don't disguise from myself that you will put my nose out
of joint."

"I don't want to put anyone's nose out of joint," Isobel laughed.

"You will do it, whether you want to or not," Mrs. Roberts said;
"my husband as much as told me so last night, and I was prepared
not to like you, but I see that I shall not be able to help doing
so. Major Hannay, you have dealt me a heavy blow, but I forgive
you."

When the round of visits was finished the Major said, "Well, Isobel,
what do you think of the ladies of the regiment?"

"I think they are all very nice, uncle. I fancy I shall like Mrs.
Doolan and Mrs. Scarsdale best; I won't give any opinion yet about
Mrs. Cromarty."



CHAPTER IV.


The life of Isobel Hannay had not, up to the time when she left
England to join her uncle, been a very bright one. At the death of
her father, her mother had been left with an income that enabled
her to live, as she said, genteelly, at Brighton. She had three
children: the eldest a girl of twelve; Isobel, who was eight; and
a boy of five, who was sadly deformed, the result of a fall from
the arms of a careless nurse when he was an infant. It was at that
time that Major Hannay had come home on leave, having been left
trustee and executor, and seen to all the money arrangements, and
had established his brother's widow at Brighton. The work had not
been altogether pleasant, for Mrs. Hannay was a selfish and querulous
woman, very difficult to satisfy even in little matters, and with
a chronic suspicion that everyone with whom she came in contact was
trying to get the best of her. Her eldest girl was likely, Captain
Hannay thought, to take after her mother, whose pet she was, while
Isobel took after her father. He had suggested that both should
be sent to school, but Mrs. Hannay would not hear of parting from
Helena, but was willing enough that Isobel should be sent to a
boarding school at her uncle's expense.

As the years went by, Helena grew up, as Mrs. Hannay proudly said,
the image of what she herself had been at her age--tall and
fair, indolent and selfish, fond of dress and gayety, discontented
because their means would not permit them to indulge in either to
the fullest extent. There was nothing in common between her and her
sister, who, when at home for the holidays, spent her time almost
entirely with her brother, who received but slight attention from
anyone else, his deformity being considered as a personal injury
and affliction by his mother and elder sister.

"You could not care less for him," Isobel once said, in a fit
of passion, "if he were a dog. I don't think you notice him more,
not one bit. He wanders about the house without anybody to give a
thought to him. I call it cruel, downright cruel."

"You are a wicked girl, Isobel," her mother said angrily, "a
wicked, violent girl, and I don't know what will become of you. It
is abominable of you to talk so, even if you are wicked enough to
get into a passion. What can we do for him that we don't do? What
is the use of talking to him when he never pays attention to what
we say, and is always moping. I am sure we get everything that we
think will please him, and he goes out for a walk with us every
day; what could possibly be done more for him?"

"A great deal more might be done for him," Isobel burst out. "You
might love him, and that would be everything to him. I don't believe
you and Helena love him, not one bit, not one tiny scrap."

"Go up to your room, Isobel, and remain there for the rest of the
day. You are a very bad girl. I shall write to Miss Virtue about
you; there must be something very wrong in her management of you,
or you would never be so passionate and insolent as you are."

But Isobel had not stopped to hear the last part of the sentence,
the door had slammed behind her. She was not many minutes alone
upstairs, for Robert soon followed her up, for when she was at home
he rarely left her side, watching her every look and gesture with
eyes as loving as those of a dog, and happy to sit on the ground
beside her, with his head leaning against her, for hours together.

Mrs. Hannay kept her word and wrote to Miss Virtue, and the evening
after she returned to school Isobel was summoned to her room.

"I am sorry to say, I have a very bad account of you from your
mother. She says you are a passionate and wicked girl. How is it,
dear; you are not passionate here, and I certainly do not think
you are wicked?"

"I can't help it when I am at home, Miss Virtue. I am sure I try to
be good, but they won't let me. They don't like me because I can't
be always tidy and what they call prettily behaved, and because I
hate walking on the parade and being stuck up and unnatural, and
they don't like me because I am not pretty, and because I am thin
and don't look, as mamma says, a credit to her; but it is not that
so much as because of Robert. You know he is deformed, Miss Virtue,
and they don't care for him, and he has no one to love him but me,
and it makes me mad to see him treated so. That is what it was she
wrote about. I told her they treated him like a dog and so they
do," and she burst into tears.

"But that was very naughty, Isobel," Miss Virtue said gravely. "You
are only eleven years old, and too young to be a judge of these
matters, and even if it were as you say, it is not for a child to
speak so to her mother."

"I know that, Miss Virtue, but how can I help it? I could cry out
with pain when I see Robert looking from one to the other just for
a kind word, which he never gets. It is no use, Miss Virtue; if it
was not for him I would much rather never go home at all, but stop
here through the holidays, only what would he do if I didn't go
home? I am the only pleasure he has. When I am there he will sit
for hours on my knee, and lay his head on my shoulder, and stroke
my face. It makes me feel as if my heart would break."

"Well, my dear," Miss Virtue said, somewhat puzzled, "it is sad, if
it is as you say, but that does not excuse your being disrespectful
to your mother. It is not for you to judge her."

"But cannot something be done for Robert, Miss Virtue? Surely they
must do something for children like him."

"There are people, my dear, who take a few afflicted children and
give them special training. Children of that kind have sometimes
shown a great deal of unusual talent, and, if so, it is cultivated,
and they are put in a way of earning a livelihood."

"Are there?" Isobel exclaimed, with eager eyes. "Then I know what
I will do, Miss Virtue; I will write off at once to Uncle Tom--
he is our guardian. I know if I were to speak to mamma about Robert
going to school it would be of no use; but if uncle writes I dare
say it would be done. I am sure she and Helena would be glad enough.
I don't suppose she ever thought of it. It would be a relief to
them to get him out of their sight."

Miss Virtue shook her head. "You must not talk so, Isobel. It is
not right or dutiful, and you are a great deal too young to judge
your elders, even if they were not related to you; and, pray, if
you write to your uncle do not write in that spirit--it would
shock him greatly, and he would form a very bad opinion of you."

And so Isobel wrote. She was in the habit of writing once every
half year to her uncle, who had told her that he wished her to do
so, and that people out abroad had great pleasure in letters from
England. Hitherto she had only written about her school life, and
this letter caused her a great deal of trouble.

It answered its purpose. Captain Hannay had no liking either for
his sister in law or his eldest niece, and had, when he was with
them, been struck with the neglect with which the little boy was
treated. Isobel had taken great pains not to say anything that
would show she considered that Robert was harshly treated; but had
simply said that she heard there were schools where little boys
like him could be taught, and that it would be such a great thing
for him, as it was very dull for him having nothing to do all day.
But Captain Hannay read through the lines, and felt that it was
a protest against her brother's treatment, and that she would not
have written to him had she not felt that so only would anything
be done for him. Accordingly he wrote home to his sister in law,
saying he thought it was quite time now that the boy should be
placed with some gentleman who took a few lads unfitted for the
rough life of an ordinary school. He should take the charges upon
himself, and had written to his agent in London to find out such
an establishment, to make arrangements for Robert to go there, and
to send down one of his clerks to take charge of him on the journey.
He also wrote to Isobel, telling her what he had done, and blaming
himself for not having thought of it before, winding up by saying:
"I have not mentioned to your mother that I heard from you about
it--that is a little secret just as well to keep to ourselves."

The next five years were much happier to Isobel, for the thought
of her brother at home without her had before been constantly on
her mind. It was a delight to her now to go home and to see the
steady improvement that took place in Robert. He was brighter in
every respect, and expressed himself as most happy where he was.

As years went on he grew into a bright and intelligent boy, though
his health was by no means good, and he looked frail and delicate.
He was as passionately attached to her as ever, and during the
holidays they were never separated; they stood quite alone, their
mother and sister interesting themselves but little in their doings,
and they were allowed to take long walks together, and to sit in
a room by themselves, where they talked, drew, painted, and read.

Mrs. Hannay disapproved of Isobel as much as ever. "She is a most
headstrong girl," she would lament to her friends, "and is really
quite beyond my control. I do not at all approve of the school she
is at, but unfortunately my brother in law, who is her guardian,
has, under the will of my poor husband, absolute control in the
matter. I am sure poor John never intended that he should be able
to override my wishes; but though I have written to him several
times about it, he says that he sees no valid reason for any change,
and that from Isobel's letters to him she seems very happy there,
and to be getting on well. She is so very unlike dear Helena,
and even when at home I see but little of her; she is completely
wrapped up in her unfortunate brother. Of course I don't blame her
for that, but it is not natural that a girl her age should care
nothing for pleasures or going out or the things natural to young
people. Yes, she is certainly improving in appearance, and if she
would but take some little pains about her dress would be really
very presentable."

But her mother's indifference disturbed Isobel but little. She was
perfectly happy with her brother when at home, and very happy at
school, where she was a general favorite. She was impulsive, high
spirited, and occasionally gave Miss Virtue some trouble, but
her disposition was frank and generous, there was not a tinge of
selfishness in her disposition, and while she was greatly liked
by girls of her own age, she was quite adored by little ones. The
future that she always pictured to herself was a little cottage
with a bright garden in the suburbs of London, where she and Robert
could live together--she would go out as a daily governess;
Robert, who was learning to play the organ, would, she hoped, get
a post as organist. Not, of course, for the sake of the salary, for
her earnings, and the interest of the thousand pounds that would
be hers when she came of age, would be sufficient for them both,
but as an amusement for him, and to give him a sense of independence.

But when she was just seventeen, and was looking forward to the
time when she would begin to carry her plan into effect, a terrible
blow came. She heard from her mother that Robert was dead.

"It is a sad blow for us all," Mrs. Hannay wrote, "but, as you
know, he has never been strong; still, we had no idea that anything
serious ailed him until we heard a fortnight since he was suffering
from a violent cough and had lost strength rapidly. A week later
we heard that the doctors were of opinion it was a case of sudden
consumption, and that the end was rapidly approaching. I went up
to town to see him, and found him even worse than I expected, and
was in no way surprised when this morning I received a letter saying
that he had gone. Great as is the blow, one cannot but feel that,
terribly afflicted as he was, his death is, as far as he is concerned,
a happy release. I trust you will now abandon your wild scheme of
teaching and come home."

But home was less home than ever to Isobel now, and she remained
another six months at school, when she received an important letter
from her uncle.

"My Dear Isobel: When you first wrote to me and told me that what you
were most looking forward to was to make a home for your brother,
I own that it was a blow to me, for I had long had plans of my own
about you; however, I thought your desire to help your brother was
so natural, and would give you such happiness in carrying it into
effect, that I at once fell in with it and put aside my own plan.
But the case is altered now, and I can see no reason why I cannot
have my own way. When I was in England I made up my mind that unless
I married, which was a most improbable contingency, I would, when
you were old enough, have you out to keep house for me. I foresaw,
even then, that your brother might prove an obstacle to this plan.
Even in the short time I was with you it was easy enough to see
that the charge of him would fall on your shoulders, and that it
would be a labor of love to you.

"If he lived, then, I felt you would not leave him, and that you
would be right in not doing so, but even then it seemed likely to
me that he would not grow up to manhood. From time to time I have
been in correspondence with the clergyman he was with, and learned
that the doctor who attended them thought but poorly of him. I had
him taken to two first class physicians in London; they pronounced
him to be constitutionally weak, and said that beyond strengthening
medicines and that sort of thing they could do nothing for him.

"Therefore, dear, it was no surprise to me when I received first
your mother's letter with the news, and then your own written a
few days later. When I answered that letter I thought it as well
not to say anything of my plan, but by the time you receive this,
it will be six months since your great loss, and you will be able
to look at it in a fairer light than you could have done then,
and I do hope you will agree to come out to me. Life here has its
advantages and disadvantages, but I think that, especially for
young people, it is a pleasant one.

"I am getting very tired of a bachelor's establishment, and it
will be a very great pleasure indeed to have you here. Ever since
I was in England I made up my mind to adopt you as my own child.
You are very like my brother John, and your letters and all I have
heard of you show that you have grown up just as he would have
wished you to do. Your sister Helena is your mother's child, and,
without wishing to hurt your feelings, your mother and I have nothing
in common. I regard you as the only relation I have in the world,
and whether you come out or whether you do not, whatever I leave
behind me will be yours. I do hope that you will at any rate come
out for a time. Later on, if you don't like the life here, you can
fall back upon your own plan.

"If you decide to come, write to my agent. I inclose envelope
addressed to him. Tell him when you can be ready. He will put you
in the way of the people you had better go to for your outfit, will
pay all bills, take your passage, and so on.

"Whatever you do, do not stint yourself. The people you go to will
know a great deal better than you can do what is necessary for a
lady out here. All you will have to do will be to get measured and
to give them an idea of your likes and fancies as to colors and so
on. They will have instructions from my agent to furnish you with
a complete outfit, and will know exactly how many dozens of everything
are required.

"I can see no reason why you should not start within a month after
the receipt of this letter, and I shall look most anxiously for a
letter from you saying that you will come, and that you will start by
a sailing ship in a month at latest from the date of your writing."

Isobel did not hesitate, as her faith in her uncle was unbounded.
Next to her meetings with her brother, his letters had been her
greatest pleasures. He had always taken her part; it was he who,
at her request, had Robert placed at school, and he had kept her
at Miss Virtue's in spite of her mother's complaints. At home she
had never felt comfortable; it had always seemed to her that she
was in the way; her mother disapproved of her; while from Helena
she had never had a sisterly word. To go out to India to see the
wonders she had read of, and to be her uncle's companion, seemed
a perfectly delightful prospect. Her answer to her uncle was sent
off the day after she received his letter, and that day month she
stepped on board an Indiaman in the London Docks.

The intervening time had not been a pleasant one. Mrs. Hannay had
heard from the Major of his wishes and intentions regarding Isobel,
and she was greatly displeased thereat.

"Why should he have chosen you instead of Helena?" she said angrily
to Isobel, on the first day of her arrival home.

"I suppose because he thought I should suit him better, mamma. I
really don't see why you should be upset about it; I don't suppose
Helena would have liked to go, and I am sure you would not have
liked to have had me with you instead of her. I should have thought
you would have been pleased I was off your hands altogether. It
doesn't seem to me that you have ever been really glad to have me
about you."

"That has been entirely your own fault," Mrs. Hannay said. "You
have always been headstrong and determined to go your own way, you
have never been fit to be seen when anyone came, you have thwarted
me in every way."

"I am very sorry, mamma. I think I might have been better if you
had had a little more patience with me, but even now if you really
wish me to stay at home I will do so. I can write again to uncle
and tell him that I have changed my mind."

"Certainly not," Mrs. Hannay said. "Naturally I should wish to have
my children with me, but I doubt whether your being here would be
for the happiness of any of us, and besides, I do not wish your
uncle's money to go out of the family; he might take it into his
head to leave it to a hospital for black women. Still, it would
have been only right and proper that he should at any rate have
given Helena the first choice. As for your instant acceptance of
his offer, without even consulting me, nothing can surprise me in
that way after your general conduct towards me."

However, although Mrs. Hannay declined to take any interest in
Isobel's preparations, and continued to behave as an injured person,
neither she nor Helena were sorry at heart for the arrangement
that had been made. They objected very strongly to Isobel's plan
of going out as a governess; but upon the other hand, her presence
at home would in many ways have been an inconvenience. Two can
make a better appearance on a fixed income than three can, and her
presence at home would have necessitated many small economies. She
was, too, a disturbing element; the others understood each other
perfectly, and both felt that they in no way understood Isobel.
Altogether, it was much better that she should go.

As to the heirship, Captain Hannay had spoken freely as to his
monetary affairs when he had been in England after his brother's
death.

"My pay is amply sufficient for all my wants," he said; "but
everything is expensive out there, and I have had no occasion to
save. I have a few hundred pounds laid by, so that if I break down,
and am ordered to Europe at any time on sick leave, I can live
comfortably for that time; but, beyond that, there has been no
reason why I should lay by. I am not likely ever to marry, and when
I have served my full time my pension will be ample for my wants
in England; but I shall do my best to help if help is necessary.
Fortunately the interest of the thousand apiece the girls were
left by my aunt will help your income. When it is necessary to do
anything for Robert, poor lad, I will take that expense on myself."

"I thought all Indians came home with lots of money," Mrs. Hannay
said complainingly.

"Not the military. We do the fighting, and get fairly paid for
it. The civilians get five times as highly paid, and run no risks
whatever. Why it should be so no one has ever attempted to explain;
but there it is, sister."

Mrs. Hannay, therefore, although she complained of the partiality
shown to Isobel, was well aware that the Major's savings could
amount to no very great sum; although, in nine years, with higher
rank and better pay, he might have added a good bit to the little
store of which he had spoken to her.

When, a week before the vessel sailed, Dr. Wade appeared with a
letter he had received from the Major, asking him to take charge
of Isobel on the voyage, Mrs. Hannay conceived a violent objection
to him. He had, in fact, been by no means pleased with the commission,
and had arrived in an unusually aggressive and snappish humor.
He cut short Mrs. Hannay's well turned sentences ruthlessly, and
aggrieved her by remarking on Helena's want of color, and recommending
plenty of walking exercise taken at a brisk pace, and more ease
and comfort in the matter of dress.

"Your daughter's lungs have no room to play, madam," he said; "her
heart is compressed. No one can expect to be healthy under such
circumstances."

"I have my own medical attendant, Dr. Wade," Mrs. Hannay said
decidedly.

"No doubt, madam, no doubt. All I can say is, if his recommendations
are not the same as mine, he must be a downright fool. Very well,
Miss Hannay, I think we understand each other; I shall be on board
by eleven o'clock, and shall keep a sharp lookout for you. Don't be
later than twelve; she will warp out of the dock by one at latest,
and if you miss that your only plan will be to take the train down
to Tilbury, and hire a boat there."

"I shall be in time, sir," Isobel said.

"Well, I hope you will, but my experience of women is pretty
extensive, and I have scarcely met one who could be relied upon
to keep an appointment punctually. Don't laden yourself more than
you can help with little bags, and parcels, and bundles of all
kinds; I expect you will be three or four in a cabin, and you will
find that there is no room for litter. Take the things you will
require at first in one or two flat trunks which will stow under
your berth; once a week or so, if the weather is fine, you will be
able to get at your things in the hold. Do try if possible to pack
all the things that you are likely to want to get at during the
voyage in one trunk, and have a star or any mark you like painted
on that trunk with your name, then there will be no occasion for
the sailors to haul twenty boxes upon deck. Be sure you send all
your trunks on board, except those you want in your cabin, two days
before she sails. Do you think you can remember all that?"

"I think so, Dr. Wade."

"Very well then, I'm off," and the Doctor shook hands with Isobel,
nodded to Mrs. Hannay and Helena, and hurried away.

"What a perfectly detestable little man!" Mrs. Hannay exclaimed,
as the door closed over him. "Your uncle must have been out of his
senses to select such an odious person to look after you on the
voyage. I really pity you, Isobel."

"I have no doubt he is very much nicer than he seems, mamma. Uncle
said, you know, in his letter last week, that he had written to
Dr. Wade to look after me, if, as he thought probable, he might be
coming out in the same ship. He said that he was a little brusque
in his manner, but that he was a general favorite, and one of the
kindest hearted of men."

"A little brusque," Mrs. Hannay repeated scornfully. "If he is only
considered a little brusque in India, all I can say is society must
be in a lamentable state out there."

"Uncle says he is a great shikari, and has probably killed more
tigers than any man in India."

"I really don't see that that is any recommendation whatever, Isobel,
although it might be if you were likely to encounter tigers on
board ship. However, I am not surprised that your opinion differs
from mine; we very seldom see matters in the same light. I only hope
you may be right and I may be wrong, for otherwise the journey is
not likely to be a very pleasant one for you; personally, I would
almost as soon have a Bengal tiger loose about the ship than such
a very rude, unmannerly person as Dr. Wade."

Mrs. Hannay and Helena accompanied Isobel to the docks, and went
on board ship with her.

The Doctor received them at the gangway. He was in a better temper,
for the fact that he was on the point of starting for India again
had put him in high spirits. He escorted the party below and saw
that they got lunch, showed Isobel which was her cabin, introduced
her to two or three ladies of his acquaintance, and made himself
so generally pleasant that even Mrs. Hannay was mollified.

As soon as luncheon was over the bell was rung, and the partings
were hurriedly got through, as the pilot announced that the tide
was slackening nearly half an hour before its time, and that it
was necessary to get the ship out of dock at once.

"Now, Miss Hannay, if you will take my advice," the Doctor said,
as soon as the ship was fairly in the stream, "you will go below,
get out all the things you will want from your boxes, and get
matters tidy and comfortable. In the first place, it will do you
good to be busy; and in the second place, there is nothing like
getting everything shipshape in the cabin the very first thing
after starting, then you are ready for rough weather or anything
else that may occur. I have got you a chair. I thought that very
likely you would not think of it, and a passenger without a chair
of her own is a most forlorn creature, I can tell you. When you
have done down below you will find me somewhere aft; if you should
not do so, look out for a chair with your own name on it and take
possession of it, but I think you are sure to see me."

Before they had been a fortnight at sea Isobel came to like the
Doctor thoroughly. He knew many of the passengers on board the
Byculla, and she had soon many acquaintances. She was amused at
the description that the Doctor gave her of some of the people to
whom he introduced her.

"I am going to introduce you to that woman in the severely plain
cloak and ugly bonnet. She is the wife of the Resident of Rajputana.
I knew her when her husband was a Collector."

"A Collector, Dr. Wade; what did he collect?"

"Well, my dear, he didn't collect taxes or water rates or anything
of that sort. A Collector is a civil functionary, and frequently
an important one. I used to attend her at one time when we were in
cantonments at Bhurtpore, where her husband was stationed at that
time. I pulled a tooth out for her once, and she halloaed louder
than any woman I ever heard. I don't mean to say, my dear, that
woman holloa any louder than men; on the contrary, they bear pain
a good deal better, but she was an exception. She was twelve years
younger then, and used to dress a good deal more than she does
now. That cloak and bonnet are meant to convey to the rest of the
passengers the fact that there is no occasion whatever for a person
of her importance to attend to such petty matters as dress.

"She never mentions her husband's name without saying, 'My husband,
the Resident,' but for all that she is a kind hearted woman--a
very kind hearted woman. I pulled a child of hers through who was
down with fever at Bhurtpore; he had a very close shave of it, and
she has never forgotten it. She greeted me when she came on board
almost with tears in her eyes at the thought of that time. I told
her I had a young lady under my charge, and she said that she would
be very pleased to do anything she could for you. She is a stanch
friend is Mrs. Resident, and you will find her useful before you
get to the end of the voyage."

The lady received Isobel with genuine kindness, and took her very
much under her wing during the voyage, and Isobel received no small
advantage from her advice and protection.

Her own good sense, however, and the earnest life she had led
at school and with her brother at home, would have sufficed her
even without this guardianship and that of the Doctor. There was
a straightforward frankness about her that kept men from talking
nonsense to her. A compliment she simply laughed at, an attempt
at flattery made her angry, and the Doctor afterwards declared to
her uncle he would not have believed that the guardianship of a
girl upon the long Indian voyage could possibly have caused him so
little trouble and annoyance.

"When I read your letter, Major, my hair stood on end, and if my
leave had not been up I should have canceled my passage and come
by the next ship; and indeed when I went down to see her I had
still by no means made up my mind as to whether I would not take
my chance of getting out in time by the next vessel. However, I
liked her appearance, and, as I have said, it turned out excellently,
and I should not mind making another voyage in charge of her."



CHAPTER V.


Two days after his arrival at Cawnpore Dr. Wade moved into quarters
of his own.

"I like Dr. Wade very much indeed, you know, uncle, still I am glad
to have you all to myself and to settle down into regular ways."

"Yes, we have got to learn to know each other, Isobel."

"Do you think so, uncle? Why, it seems to me that I know all about
you, just the same as if we had always been together, and I am sure
I always told you all about myself, even when I was bad at school
and got into scrapes, because you said particularly that you liked
me to tell you everything, and did not want to know only the good
side of me."

"Yes, that is so, my dear, and no doubt I have a fair idea as to
what are your strong points and what are your weak ones, but neither
one or the other affect greatly a person's ordinary everyday character.
It is the little things, the trifles, the way of talking, the way
of listening, the amount of sympathy shown, and so on, that make a
man or woman popular. People do not ask whether he or she may be
morally sleeping volcanoes, who, if fairly roused, might slay a
rival or burn a city; they simply look at the surface--is a man
or a woman pleasant, agreeable, easily pleased, ready to take a
share in making things go, to show a certain amount of sympathy in
other people's pleasures or troubles--in fact, to form a pleasant
unit of the society of a station?

"So in the house you might be the most angelic temper in the world,
but if you wore creaky boots, had a habit of slamming doors, little
tricks of giggling or fidgeting with your hands or feet, you would
be an unpleasant companion, for you would be constantly irritating
one in small matters. Of course, it is just the same thing with
your opinion of me. You have an idea that I am a good enough sort
of fellow, because I have done my best to enable you to carry out
your plans and wishes, but that has nothing to do at all with my
character as a man to live with. Till we saw each other, when you
got out of the gharry, we really knew nothing whatever of each
other."

Isobel shook her head decidedly.

"Nothing will persuade me that I didn't know everything about you,
uncle. You are just exactly what I knew you would be in look, and
voice, in manner and ways and everything. Of course, it is partly
from what I remember, but I really did not see a great deal of you
in those days; it is from your letters, I think, entirely that I
knew all about you, and exactly what you were. Do you mean to say
that I am not just what you thought I should be?"

"Well, not so clearly as all that, Isobel. Of course you were only
a little child when I saw you, and except that you had big brown
eyes, and long eyelashes, I confess that it struck me that you were
rather a plain little thing, and I do not think that your mother's
letters since conveyed to my mind the fact that there had been
any material change since. Therefore I own that you are personally
quite different from what I had expected to find you. I had expected
to find you, I think, rather stumpy in figure, and square in build,
with a very determined and businesslike manner."

"Nonsense, uncle, you could not have expected that."

"Well, my dear, I did, and you see I find I was utterly wrong."

"But you are not discontented, uncle?" Isobel asked, with a smile.

"No, my dear, but perhaps not quite so contented as you may think
I ought to be."

"Why is that, uncle?"

"Well, my dear, if you had been what I had pictured you, I might
have had you four or five years to myself. Possibly you might even
have gone home with me, to keep house for me in England, when I
retire. As it is now, I give myself six months at the outside."

"What nonsense, uncle! You don't suppose I am going to fall in
love with the first man who presents himself? Why, everyone says
the sea voyage is a most trying time, and, you see, I came through
that quite scathless.

"Besides, uncle," and she laughed, "there is safety in multitude,
and I think that a girl would be far more likely to fall in love in
some country place, where she only saw one or two men, than where
there are numbers of them. Besides, it seems to me that in India a
girl cannot feel that she is chosen, as it were, from among other
girls, as she would do at home. There are so few girls, and so
many men here, there must be a sort of feeling that you are only
appreciated because there is nothing better to be had.

"But, of course, uncle, you can understand that the idea of love
making and marrying never entered my head at all until I went on
board a ship. As you know, I always used to think that Robert and
I would live together, and I am quite sure that I should never have
left him if he had lived. If I had stopped in England I should have
done the work I had trained myself to do, and it might have been
years and years, and perhaps never, before anyone might have taken
a fancy to me, or I to him. It seems strange, and I really don't
think pleasant, uncle, for everyone to take it for granted that
because a girl comes out to India she is a candidate for marriage.
I think it is degrading, uncle."

"The Doctor was telling me yesterday that you had some idea of
that sort," the Major said, with a slight smile, "and I think girls
often start with that sort of idea. But it is like looking on at
a game. You don't feel interested in it until you begin to play at
it. Well, the longer you entertain those ideas the better I shall
be pleased, Isobel. I only hope that you may long remain of the
same mind, and that when your time does come your choice will be
a wise one."

There could be no doubt that the Major's niece was a great success
in the regiment. Richards and Wilson, two lads who had joined six
months before, succumbed at once, and mutual animosity succeeded
the close friendship they had hitherto entertained for each other.
Travers, the Senior Captain, a man who had hitherto been noted for
his indifference to the charms of female society, went so far as
to admit that Miss Hannay was a very nice, unaffected girl. Mrs.
Doolan was quite enthusiastic about her.

"It is very lucky, Jim," she said to her husband, "that you were
a sober and respected married man before she came out, and that I
am installed here as your lawful and wedded wife instead of being
at Ballycrogin with only an engagement ring on my finger. I know
your susceptible nature; you would have fallen in love with her,
and she would not have had you, and we should both of us have been
miserable."

"How do you know she wouldn't have had me, Norah?"

"Because, my dear, she will be able to pick and choose just where
she likes; and though no one recognizes your virtues more than I
do, a company in an Indian regiment is hardly as attractive as a
Residency or Lieutenant Governorship. But seriously, she is a dear
girl, and as yet does not seem to have the least idea how pretty
she is. How cordially some of them will hate her! I anticipate
great fun in looking on. I am out of all that sort of thing myself."

"That is news to me, Norah; I think you are just as fond of a quiet
flirtation as you used to be."

"Just of a very little one, Jim; fortunately not more. So I can
look on complacently; but even I have suffered. Why, for weeks not
a day has passed without young Richards dropping in for a chat,
and when he came in yesterday he could talk about nothing but Miss
Hannay, until I shut him up by telling him it was extremely bad
form to talk to one lady about another. The boy colored up till I
almost laughed in his face; in fact, I believe I did laugh."

"That I will warrant you did, Norah."

"I could not help it, especially when he assured me he was perfectly
serious about Miss Hannay."

"You did not encourage him, I hope, Norah."

"No; I told him the Colonel set his face against married subalterns,
and that he would injure himself seriously in his profession if
he were to think of such a thing, and as I knew he had nothing but
his pay, that would be fatal to him."

Captain Doolan went off into a burst of laughter.

"And he took it all in, Norah? He did not see that you were humbugging
him altogether?"

"Not a bit of it. They are very amusing, these boys, Jim. I was
really quite sorry for Richards, but I told him he would get over
it in time, for as far as I could learn you had been just as bad
thirty-three times before I finally took pity on you, and that I
only did it then because you were wearing away with your troubles.
I advised him to put the best face he could on it, for that Miss
Hannay would be the last person to be pleased, if he were to be
going about with a face as long as if he had just come from his
aunt's funeral."

The race meeting came off three weeks after Miss Hannay arrived
at Cawnpore. She had been to several dinners and parties by this
time, and began to know most of the regular residents.

The races served as an excuse for people to come in from all the
stations round. Men came over from Lucknow, Agra, and Allahabad,
and from many a little outlying station; every bungalow in the
cantonment was filled with guests, and tents were erected for the
accommodation of the overflow.

Several of the officers of the 103d had horses and ponies entered
in the various races. There was to be a dance at the club on the
evening of the second day of the races, and a garden party at the
General's on that of the first. Richards and Wilson had both ponies
entered for the race confined to country tats which had never won
a race, and both had endeavored to find without success what was
Isobel's favorite color.

"But you must have some favorite color?" Wilson urged.

"Why must I, Mr. Wilson? One thing is suitable for one thing and
one another, and I always like a color that is suitable for the
occasion."

"But what color are you going to wear at the races, Miss Hannay?"

"Well, you see, I have several dresses," Isobel said gravely, "and
I cannot say until the morning arrives which I may wear; it will
depend a good deal how I feel. Besides, I might object to your
wearing the same color as I do. You remember in the old times,
knights, when they entered the lists, wore the favors that ladies
had given them. Now I have no idea of giving you a favor. You have
done nothing worthy of it. When you have won the Victoria Cross,
and distinguished yourself by some extraordinarily gallant action,
it will be quite time to think about it."

"You see one has to send one's color in four days beforehand, in
time for them to print it on the card," the lad said; "and besides,
one has to get a jacket and cap made."

"But you don't reflect that it is quite possible your pony won't
win after all, and supposing that I had colors, I certainly should
not like to see them come in last in the race. Mr. Richards has
been asking me just the same thing, and, of course, I gave him the
same answer. I can only give you the advice I gave him."

"What was that, Miss Hannay?" Wilson asked eagerly.

"Well, you see, it is not very long since either of you left school,
so I should think the best thing for you to wear are your school
colors, whatever they were."

And with a merry laugh at his look of discomfiture, Isobel turned
away and joined Mrs. Doolan and two or three other ladies who were
sitting with her.

"There is one comfort," Mrs. Doolan was just saying, "in this
country, when there is anything coming off, there is no occasion
to be anxious as to the weather; one knows that it will be hot,
fine, and dusty. One can wear one's gayest dress without fear.
In Ireland one never knew whether one wanted muslin or waterproof
until the morning came, and even then one could not calculate with
any certainty how it would be by twelve o'clock. This will be your
first Indian festivity, Miss Hannay."

"Do the natives come much?"

"I should think so! All Cawnpore will turn out, and we shall have
the Lord of Bithoor and any number of Talookdars and Zemindars with
their suites. A good many of them will have horses entered, and
they have some good ones if they could but ride them. The Rajah of
Bithoor is a most important personage. He talks English very well,
and gives splendid entertainments. He is a most polite gentleman,
and is always over here if there is anything going on. The general
idea is that he has set his mind on having an English wife, the
only difficulty being our objection to polygamy. He has every other
advantage, and his wife would have jewels that a queen might envy."

Isobel laughed. "I don't think jewels would count for much in my
ideas of happiness."

"It is not so much the jewels, my dear, in themselves, but the envy
they would excite in every other woman."

"I don't think I can understand that feeling, Mrs. Doolan. I can
understand that there might be a satisfaction in being envied for
being the happiest woman, or the most tastefully dressed woman, or
even the prettiest woman, though that after all is a mere accident,
but not for having the greatest number of bright stones, however
valuable. I don't think the most lovely set of diamonds ever seen
would give me as much satisfaction as a few choice flowers."

"Ah, but that is because you are quite young," Mrs. Doolan said.
"Eve was tempted by an apple, but Eve had not lived long. You see,
an apple will tempt a child, and flowers a young girl. Diamonds
are the bait of a woman."

"You would not care for diamonds yourself, Mrs. Doolan?"

"I don't know, my dear; the experiment was never tried--bog oak
and Irish diamonds have been more in my line. Jim's pay has never
run to diamonds, worse luck, but he has promised me that if he ever
gets a chance of looting the palace of a native prince he will
keep a special lookout for them for me. So far he has never had the
chance. When he was an ensign there was some hard fighting with the
Sikhs, but nothing of that sort fell to his share. I often tell him
that he took me under false pretenses altogether. I had visions of
returning some day and astonishing Ballycrogin, as a sort of begum
covered with diamonds; but as far as I can see the children are
the only jewels that I am likely to take back."

"And very nice jewels too," Isobel said heartily; "they are dear
little things, Mrs. Doolan, and worth all the diamonds in the
world. I hear, Mrs. Prothero, that your husband has a good chance
of winning the race for Arabs; I intend to wager several pairs of
gloves on his horse."

"Yes, Seila is very fast. She won last year. But Nana Sahib has had
the horse that won the cup at Poona last year, and is considered
one of the fastest in India, brought across from Bombay. Our only
hope is that he will put a native up, and in that case we ought to
have a fair chance, for the natives have no idea of riding a waiting
race, but go off at full speed, and take it all out of their horse
before the end of the race."

"Well, we must hope he will, Mrs. Prothero; that seems, from what
I hear, the only chance there is of the regiment winning a prize.
So all our sympathies will be with you."

"Hunter and his wife and their two girls are coming," the Major
said, the next morning, as he opened his letters.

"Very well, uncle, then we will do as we arranged. The Miss Hunters
shall have my room, and I will take the little passage room."

"I am afraid it will put you out, Isobel; but they have been here
for the last two years at the race times and I did not like not
asking them again."

"Of course, uncle. It will make no difference to me, and I don't
require any very great space to apparel myself."

"We must have dinners for twelve at least, the day before the races,
and on the three days of the meeting."

Isobel looked alarmed. "I hope you don't rely on me for the
arrangements, uncle. At each of the four dinners we have been to
I have done nothing but wonder how it was all done, and have been
trembling over the thought that it would be our turn presently. It
seemed a fearful responsibility; and four, one after the other, is
an appalling prospect."

"Rumzan will see to it all, my dear. He has always managed very well
before. I will talk it over with him; besides, these will not be
like regular set dinner parties. At race meetings everyone keeps
pretty nearly open house. One does not ask any of the people at the
station; they have all their own visitors. One trusts to chance to
fill up the table, and one never finds any difficulty about it. It
is lucky I got up a regular stock of china, and so on, in anticipation
of your coming. Of course, as a bachelor, I have not been a dinner
giver, except on occasions like this, when nobody expects anything
like state, and things are conducted to a certain extent in picnic
fashion. I have paid off my dinner obligations by having men to mess
or the club. However, I will consult Rumzan, and we will have a
regular parade of our materials, and you shall inspect our resources.
If there is anything in the way of flower vases or center dishes,
or anything of that sort, you think requisite, we must get them.
Jestonjee has got a good stock of all that sort of thing. As to
tablecloths and napkins and so on, I had a supply with the china,
so you will find that all right. Of course you will get plenty of
flowers; they are the principal things, after all, towards making
the table look well. You have had no experience in arranging them,
I suppose?"

"None at all, uncle; I never arranged a vase of flowers in my life."

"Then I tell you what you had better do, Isobel. You coax the Doctor
into coming in and undertaking it. He is famous in that way. He
always has the decoration of the mess table on grand occasions;
and when we give a dance the flowers and decorations are left to
him as a matter of course."

"I will ask him, uncle; but he is the last man in the world I should
have thought of in connection with flowers and decorations."

"He is a many sided man, my dear; he paints excellently, and has
wonderful taste in the way of dress. I can assure you that no lady
in the regiment is quite satisfied with a new costume until it has
received the stamp of the Doctor's approval. When we were stationed
at Delhi four years ago there was a fancy ball, and people who
were judges of that sort of thing said that they had never seen so
pretty a collection of dresses, and I should think fully half of
them were manufactured from the Doctor's sketches."

"I remember now," Isobel laughed, "that he was very sarcastic on
board ship as to the dresses of some of the people, but I thought
it was only his way of grumbling at things in general, though
certainly I generally agreed with him. He told me one day that
my taste evidently inclined to the dowdy, but you see I wore half
mourning until I arrived out here."

The Doctor himself dropped in an hour later.

"I shall be glad, Doctor, if you will dine with us as often as
you can during the four days of the races," Major Hannay said. "Of
course, I shall be doing the hospitable to people who come in from
out stations, and as Isobel won't know any of them, it will be
a little trying to her, acting for the