Page 11 of Banked Fires


  CHAPTER XI

  A SUNDAY OBSERVANCE

  Honor Bright rode straight to the Bara Koti to tell Joyce of ElsieMeek's death, not without a grim satisfaction in the thought that thenews was certain to fill her friend with self-reproach; on otheraccounts her feelings defied analysis.

  Joyce was writing home-letters for the mail in her morning-room whenHonor was announced, and she was arrested, in her expressions of welcomeby the look on her visitor's face, which was unusually pale and hergreat brown eyes, always so friendly and tender, cold and grave.

  "What is it?" she asked fearfully, as she searched her memory for anyunconscious offence to her friend.

  "I have just come from Mrs. Meek who is prostrated with grief. Elsie isdead. She died at sunrise this morning."

  "Dead?--Elsie Meek?... I did not know she was so bad!" Joyce lookedshocked and distressed.

  "I left as Captain Dalton arrived--they are blaming him for not havinggone there last night. He was expected, but"--she made a gesture ofdespair.

  "Oh, Honor!--was it because he was here? He came to see if we wereill--I had been nervous about Baby--and when I knew that it was nothing,I kept him for music till--till quite late. Is it my fault?" The lovelyface looked stricken and blanched.

  "I don't know--perhaps indirectly; but _he_ knew. He should not havestayed."

  "I persuaded him because I was dull--but I never knew!--I never dreamedshe was so bad! Oh, Honey!" and Joyce broke into a passion of tears. "Ishall never be happy again. I shall always feel that I was responsible!"

  "He should never have stayed with you!--his duty was clear," said Honorsternly. "The responsibility rests entirely with him. But didn't youknow that being alone and without your husband, you were invitingcriticism by allowing him to stay--at that late hour? People in these_mafasil_ stations are so censorious."

  "I did not think it mattered," said Joyce without a shadow of resentmentat such plain speaking. She stood with hands clasped, looking like achild in trouble, and Honor's heart began to melt. "He's only thedoctor, you see, and he was so good to us in camp. Do you think I waswrong, Honey?" flinging her arms about Honor's neck and hiding her facein her bosom. Who could censure so much sweetness? So she was held in aclose embrace and tenderly kissed.

  "I have no right to speak--forgive me," said Honor.

  "But you are privileged, because I love you," said Joyce. "Say what youplease. I am so unhappy!--so miserable!"

  "We must be miserable only for harm consciously done. You could never dothat."

  "I could not bear that you should condemn me," Joyce went on, clingingto her for consolation. "It seemed such a simple thing--it _was_."

  "Yes, of course," Honor agreed against her judgment. "Only it would behateful that you should be talked about by the people here--as Mrs. Foxis, for example."

  "I should loathe it!--for I am not like her. You don't think that for amoment?"

  "Never!--that is why I'll not have you misjudged," said Honor kissingher wet cheek.

  "Why are people so horrid? I like Captain Dalton. He is so nice--sodifferent from what people think him--agreeable! He took my rose, and Ipinned it in his coat. He showed me how I should play the _Liebestraum_,and----"

  "He--took--your rose?"

  "Yes. It was in my dress ... and was so sweet--and he said I should becalled 'Joy.' He is going to show me how to drive his motor-car so thatI may take Ray by surprise one day. I must go out more than I do, andnot worry so much about Baby for he is here to look after him. Oh! he isvery kind--surely he never meant to neglect Elsie Meek?"

  "He knows best about that--but, Joyce," Honor was strangely agitated andhid her telltale eyes in a cloud of Joyce's sunny hair, "you will neverdo anything that you cannot tell your husband?"

  "How do you mean? I always tell Ray everything."

  "That is all. He will advise you what it is best not to do. It is nobusiness of mine."

  "And I'll always tell you, too," the little wife said affectionately.

  But Honor mentally decided it would be better for her not to hearanything more about Captain Dalton's visits. "I don't count--I am a mereoutsider."

  "You do. You are such a great help to me. I wish I had half your mannerand self-confidence."

  Their talk reverted to Elsie Meek, and Joyce learned something of themother's grief. She was anxious to call immediately at the Mission tooffer her condolences, and decided to attend the funeral which was totake place that afternoon. It was eventually settled that Mrs. Brightshould call for her in the dogcart, and Honor would ride.

  Consequently, when Ray Meredith motored in that afternoon, his wife wasabsent attending Elsie Meek's funeral, a simple ceremony at a tinycemetery on the Mission property. The coffin, made of packing cases andcovered with black calico, was carried by pastors, and the service wasconducted by Mr. Meek himself, who scourged himself to perform thepathetic task as a penance to his soul.

  It was dusk when Joyce returned, a subdued little person in black with abursting heart which was relieved by a flood of tears in her husband'sarms. He was very pitiful of her in her wrought-up state, and he soothedher with tender caresses.

  It was very comforting to Joyce to be petted, and by degrees herweakened self-esteem was restored. Nothing was very far wrong withherself or her world while her husband loved her so, and Honor Brightremained her friend. Meredith would not allow his beloved to blameherself, though it was hardly the thing to entertain a visitor of theopposite sex so late at night when her husband was in camp; but thecircumstances were exceptional; his little darling was nervous andlonely, and Dalton was a gentleman. Poof! he wouldn't for a moment allowthat the doctor did not know his own business best; and very likelyElsie Meek's case had been hopeless from the start. With a weak heart,anything might happen in typhoid. Anyhow, he was not going to let hislittle girl worry herself sick and she was to cheer up on the instantand think no more about what did not concern herself. The main thingwas, he had returned for the week-end, and wanted all her love and allher smiles to reward him for his long abstinence; and Joyce obedientlykissed him and beamed upon him through her tears, wondering in herchildish soul why husbands were so exacting in their love--their ardourso inexhaustible. Women were so very different--but men!

  "With a wife like you, what can you expect?" Meredith cried, when shehad expressed her views with naivete. Which was all very flattering andcalculated to spoil her thoroughly, but Meredith was in a mood to spoilher thoroughly after their enforced separation.

  * * * * *

  On Sunday morning, Honor followed up the notice which had been pinned onthe board at the Club concerning evensong at the Railway Institute, bycycling round to various bungalows and exacting promises of attendancefrom her friends.

  Muktiarbad was behind hand in the matter of a church building, theproposal having been shelved by the authorities with the usualprocrastination. The Roman Catholic missionary lived in asceticsimplicity in the Station, and took his meals in native fashion whereverhe preached the Faith.

  There was no Episcopal clergyman nearer than the headquarters of theDivision, eighty miles away; so it was only when his duties permittedit, that the District Chaplain paid a flying visit to Muktiarbad tominister to the spiritual welfare of his flock. Otherwise, it devolvedon the Collector to officiate at Divine worship, as a paternalgovernment enjoined this duty on the leading official in the stationsnot provided with resident clergy.

  Thus it was that on most Sunday evenings Mr. Meredith read the ChurchService in the general room of the Club to a congregation consistingmostly of ladies, while Jack Darling, usually flushed and breathlessafter tennis and a lightning change, went through the ordeal of readingthe lessons.

  To make certain of a couple of unreliable members of the choir, Honorcycled last of all to a picturesque little bungalow near the PoliceCourt, and dismounted at its tumble-down gate. From frequent removalsfor jumping competitions for raw ponies, it was considerably damaged andswung loosely on its hinges,
swayed by every wind that blew.

  The bungalow was thatched, the eaves supported by square pillars; andthe verandah was screened by bamboo trellis-work up which climbed thebeautiful _Gloriosa superba_.

  Boars' heads, buffalo horns, and the antlers of deer, ornamented whatcould be seen of the walls inside, and the tiled flooring was scatteredover with long-arm easy chairs and "peg-tables."

  A gravelled walk led to the steps, bordered on either side withstraggling marigolds and dwarf sunflowers, dear to the hearts of_malis_, but evidently the worse for the depredations of the villagegoats. Date-palms drooped gracefully above a tank in the background, anda gorgeous hedge of acalypha hid the outhouses and kitchen.

  Honor's appearance at the gate was the signal for a wild stampede fromthe verandah by Jack and Tom, who were enjoying a "Europe morning," tochange into suitable garb; an orderly being dispatched meanwhile tocrave the lady's indulgence. Rampur hounds and fox-terriers received hereffusively on the road, and showed their appreciation of her presence byleaving marks of muddy paws on her drill skirt.

  Tommy was the first to appear neatly apparelled, and smoothing his wethair with both hands. He was followed soon afterwards by Jack, lookinglike an overgrown schoolboy in flannels. They hung about the gate sinceshe could not be induced to enter, and pulled rueful faces on receivinginstructions as to their duty at six-thirty, sharp.

  "I believe there has been a riot at Panipara," put in Tommy withinspiration. "It is my duty as a police official to take instant noticeof the fact and visit the spot for an inquiry."

  "It can wait till Monday morning--or, you can send your Inspector," saidHonor.

  "I have a poisonous report to write"--began Jack.

  "No sulking!" said Honor with determination. "You have to set a goodexample, both of you."

  "I don't mind the service, a bit, and the hymns are fine," said Tommy,"but I distinctly object to sitting still and having illogical argumentswhen I cannot answer back hurled at my head."

  "I shouldn't mind even that, for I needn't listen to them," said Jack;"but I do wish he would cut his sermons short. The last time he was atit for half an hour till I fell asleep and all but swallowed a fly."

  "You and Tommy are worse than heathens and want a Mission all toyourselves," said Honor with twitching lips. (When Honor's lips revealeda hidden sense of humour, the boys' spirits effervesced.) "There ishymn-practice at three this afternoon at the Institute," she informedthem. "Shall we have _Abide with me_, for a change?"

  "'Abide with you,' certainly," said Tommy bubbling, while Jack put in aplea for one of the old favourites. "_Sun of my soul_ is hard to beat,"he said.

  "Jack has a fixed belief that the world has missed a great tenor inhim," remarked Tommy. "He was bawling so loudly in his bath yesterdaymorning, that I was on the point of fetching my gun thinking there was ajackal around,--fact!"

  "Liar! I was singing _O Star of Eve_, and you annoyed me by joining in.Execrable taste."

  "Well?--we shall count on both of you for the choir."

  "If any one will be so kind as to lend me a prayer-book," said Tommyreluctantly. "Jack used mine on a muggy night to keep the window open,and as it rained half the time, my property was reduced to pulp. Theleast he might do is to give me another."

  "You can share mine," said Honor magnanimously. "That's fixed."

  "Thanks, awfully. I love sharing a prayer-book with someone who knowsthe geography of it. The last time I went to church was at Hazrigungewhen the Commissioner's Memsahib collared me as I was going to bridge.Miss Elworthy, the parson's sister,--elderly and still hopeful, handedme her book of Common Prayer; but I'm dashed if I could find theCollect! At any ordinary time I would have pounced upon it right enough,but knowing her eyes were upon me, I could do nothing but make awindmill of the pages with only the 'Solemnisation of Matrimony' staringup at my distracted vision, till I began to think Fate had designs.Really, it made me quite nervous, I assure you!"

  "I shall have to give you Sunday-school lessons," said Honor, laughingheartily. "You are a bad boy, Tommy."

  "I never attempt to find the places," said Jack. "It's the mostdifficult thing in the world when you are nervous and the parson is offat great speed, like a fox with the pack at his heels. My Church Servicewas a present from my old aunt when I was confirmed and is in diamondprint, so that when I hold it upside down, no one is a bit the wiser."

  "You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" cried Honor.

  "Not at all. I always say 'Amen' at the right moment."

  "It is always a case of 'Ah, men!' at Muktiarbad, where church isconcerned," saying which she sprang on her bicycle and fled with thesound of loud groans in her ears.

  * * * * *

  Choir practice was well attended, and the "Inseparables" were obedientlyon hand to swell the singing of the popular hymns and even attempt a fewchants. At the finish, Mrs. Fox made room for Jack on the organ stool,and while he worked the pedals, she played a voluntary by Grieg to theirown entertainment and the distraction of the company.

  "Fair joint production, if Jack would only remember he is not working asewing-machine," said Tommy. "It puts me out of breath to listen."

  "The bellows sound like an asthmatic old man about to suffer spontaneouscombustion," said Honor moving away from the vicinity of the Americanorgan, vexed to see the transparent arts practised by Mrs. Fox to leadJack captive.

  Divine service when conducted by the District Chaplain was held at theRailway Institute which was more centrally situated than the Club forthe bulk of the European community at Muktiarbad, and the occasion wastypical of the generality of such functions in the small, _mafasil_stations lacking a church building. Families of officials,--Governmentand Railway, non-officials, and subordinates, found seats for themselvesin the neighbourhood of their respective acquaintance, and there wasonly a sprinkling of the masculine element, the majority being husbandswhose demeanour, as they followed in the wake of their wives, wassuggestive of derelict ships being towed into port.

  The choir were accommodated near the American organ at which Mrs. Foxpresided with ostentatious skill. Jack's stealthy effort to eludeobservation in a distant corner was frustrated by Honor on her way in,who whispered her commands that he was to occupy the seat reserved forhim as the sole tenor available.

  Tommy, on the other hand, put in attendance with laudable docility,claiming a place beside Honor; and all through the sermon occupiedhimself with the marriage service, till a gloved hand recoveredpossession of the prayer-book and a pair of brown eyes reproved himgravely.

  "You paid no attention whatever to the service," she afterwards remarkedscathingly.

  "It is just what I did, right through," he returned meekly. "It's theonly service that interests me."

  "It was irrelevant matter!"

  "Which made me miss the benefit I might have derived from the seedfalling on prepared soil. Alas! see what you are responsible for!"

  "I? I take no responsibility for you. And was the soil really preparedthis time?" she teased.

  "It was torn by the plough of eagerness and harrowed with anxiety lest Ishould be late and lose my place beside you," he returned feelingly.

  Outside on the gravelled path, Mrs. Bright was informed by Mrs.Ironsides that she had counted sixty women in "Church," and only sixteenmen, twelve of whom were married. "Scandalous!--I call it. And this is acountry, where, in the midst of life one is in death!"

  On their way home, Meredith and Joyce, with the parson in the car, cameupon the doctor taking a "constitutional" in the moonlight and insistedon carrying him off to pot-luck.

  Tommy attached himself to the Brights and received a similar invitation,while Jack was annexed by Mrs. Fox whose husband was at home and "wouldbe charmed."

  The invitation was given openly and Jack had no hesitation in acceptingit, curious to know how the elusive Barrington Fox would appear oncloser acquaintance.

  They walked together across the railway lines and past unkempt hed
ges ofDuranta in full bloom towards the group of residences reserved forofficials of the Railway, each within its own garden and bounded bybarbed wire as a protection against stray cattle.

  The Traffic Superintendent's house was built on a more generous scalethan the others, though uniformly of red brick picked out with buff.Shallow arches supported the concrete roof, and the verandah in frontwas gay with ornamental pot-plants and palms of luxuriant growth. Manydoors opened upon it, and through them could be seen a lamplit andgraceful interior, veiled by misty lace curtains. The verandah itselfwas left for the moon to illuminate.

  Long residence in India and natural good taste had taught Mrs. Fox theart of furnishing with an eye to the needs of the climate, so that herrooms had the charm of restfulness, ease, and coolness. Most of herdrawing-room chairs were of Singapur rush-work; the mat was of greengrass, the _punkha_ frills of art muslin. The walls were distempered incool greys and neutral tints; while on all sides were palms, large andsmall, and china-grass in dainty flower-pots of coloured earthenware. AJapanese draught screen, embroidered in silk upon gauze and arrangedcarelessly, put a finish to the most picturesque drawing-room Jack hadyet seen in Bengal.

  Mr. Barrington Fox, however, was not at home. A telegram was found tohave arrived, intimating that he had been detained at a wayside station.

  "Such a nuisance!" Mrs. Fox exclaimed, laying down the telegram which,as a matter of fact, she had received earlier in the day. "You'll haveto put up with only me. Do you mind?"

  "It is not for me to mind," he answered awkwardly. "If you think I mightstay, I shall be delighted."

  "Then you shall. Who cares?--not my husband who has long ceased to mindwhat I do or how I am left to pass the time," she said bitterly.

  "You must often be very lonely?" he ventured sympathetically. He hadheard many rumours of Fox's neglect of his wife--of the temptations towhich she was exposed and to which a woman placed as she was might beexcused for yielding. Plenty of fellows paid court to her, and a goodfew had grown attached--yet, barring Smart who was a cad and a bounder,he was sure that none could cast a stone.

  "I am always desperately lonely," she sighed, as she sank into achesterfield and motioned him to the seat beside her. "You little knowhow it preys upon me; how I welcome a sympathetic friend! but--why speakof it?" she passed him her cigarette case, and they began to smokecompanionably. "So few understand me," said she in subdued tones. "Somany misunderstand! I ask you, what is life worth to a young womanin my position?" her chest heaved, her eyes filled with self-pity."And who can stifle nature and be happy?--the ache for humansympathy--tenderness--love...." she brushed the moisture from her eyeswith a diminutive handkerchief, and smiled a wintry smile. "I refuse totalk only of myself!--let us talk of you, dear Jack. You are a dear andI have so longed to make a friend of you," she interrupted herself tosay.

  Jack coloured furiously while filled with indignant pity for her. Poorgirl!--after all, she was quite young!... He did not care how old shewas; she was young enough to be pitied for the rotten time her selfishhusband gave her.

  They spent a supremely innocent evening looking through albums ofphotographs and talking football and polo. The dinner was excellent, andMrs. Fox, clever in the art of entertaining, modelled her conversationto suit his manly tastes, in the end breaking down all his naturalshyness and placing him on terms of easy friendship. When Jackeventually rose to go he was flattered by her open reluctance to partwith him; her pleasure in his society had been so frank and appealing.

  "I have never enjoyed an evening so much in my life, Jack," she saidcooingly. "Why are you so different from other men?"

  "Am I?" he asked in some confusion as she retained his hand in hers.

  "In a thousand ways. I almost wish I had never met you, Jack!"

  "Why?" he asked, his breath suddenly short, his heart beating a rapidtattoo in his breast. For the life of him he could not say the easypretty things that fell so naturally from other men's lips.

  "Because--Oh! why, you must know--I shall always be making comparisonswhich are odious, and remember, I have to put up with only odiousness!"

  "I hate to think of it," he said huskily.

  "It is sweet to think you mind."

  "It makes a fellow--mad to do something. It's damned hard and cruel foryou!"

  "Never mind, dear boy. Come again, come often, will you?" she pleaded,leaning her head against the pillar behind her and looking languishinglyup at him with the moonlight full on her face and throat, bathing her ina pale radiance.

  Jack's eyes swept the deserted verandah. He did not know that theservants were well drilled in the etiquette of keeping out of the waywhen the lady of the house entertained a male visitor. "Good-bye," hesaid indistinctly, moving a step nearer.

  "Good-bye," she returned almost inarticulately, her eyes melting to hisown. "I shall weep my heart out when you are gone."

  "Why?" he demanded unsteadily.

  "For the things that I have missed. I always dream of a man just likeyou--you are the man of my dreams come to me--too late!--and my hearthas been starved so long!"

  "Don't," he said sharply. "I am not made of stone."

  Their faces were very near together, so near, that Jack had only tostoop to press her lips fiercely with his.

  "Oh, Jack!--" she cried emotionally. "You mustn't make me love you--youdarling!" yet she returned his kiss with equal fervour. "Oh, go--goquickly," she breathed. "You must not stay----"

  Dazed and bewildered, Jack took her at her word and went swiftly downthe steps, nor did he halt when her voice called after him to stop andreturn. "Oh, Jack!--come back--come back, I cannot let you go!"

  Nevertheless, he went without a backward look, wondering within himselfif all men found it so easy to tread the path of dishonour. Where itmight lead him if he allowed his baser instincts headway, he couldguess, and with a mighty effort he made up his mind to apply the brakethere and then. Poor woman!--he could not blame her--it was he alone whohad had no excuse--not a shadow of an excuse for the outrage. She, adisappointed wife was like a being temporising with suicide. Small blameto her if she took the plunge. It was for men of sound brain and clearjudgment to save her--not supply the means of self-destruction.

  Did she wish him to believe that she already loved him?

  Then he must assist her quickly to recover from the delusion, for Jackwell knew that there is a difference between love and the feeling thatcould simulate it to the destruction of honour and self-respect. Passionhad swept him off his feet with sudden violence and he was shaken to thedepths with fear of himself, for he had let himself go unpardonably andwas ashamed.

  All the way to his bungalow he walked with bowed head, alternatelythrilled with temptation, and abased at his moral collapse; the latter,because he cherished an ideal and was now convicted in his ownestimation as unworthy.

  The ideal had been established in the _Puja_[13] holidays he had spentin Darjeeling playing with the "Squawk" and listening to its mother'sinnocent reminiscences of her home and her people in England. He hadfound a wonderful thing: a beautiful woman without vanity--achild-nature in a woman; an ideal wife; one who respected her husbandand obeyed him while idolising their child. Wedded to such purity ahusband's life was paradise, and Jack accounted him a lucky man. It wasrefreshing to bask in her presence and hear her describe her simplepast, so transparently virtuous and inexperienced, into which a certainname was always intruding. "Kitty" the little sister was mentionedconstantly. Always "Kitty!" She had said this or that, she had done soand so. She was a little wonder, full of charm, and so intensely humanthat the picture of her had haunted his imagination.

  [Footnote 13: Hindu festival.]

  "Is she like you?" he had asked wondering if Nature could possibly havetwice excelled herself.

  "We are considered rather alike, but she has twice the courage andinitiative that I have, and her eyes are the deepest violet you haveseen."

  "Haven't you a photo of her?" curiosity had impelled him to ask.

/>   "Oh, yes. A beauty, taken by Raaf's in Regent Street." She had fetchedthe photograph and Jack had fallen straightway in love with thesparkling face so full of charm and sunshine. The small features werenot unlike Mrs. Meredith's, but where they lacked her beauty, they madeup a thousandfold in attraction. It was a face to hold the attention, tofollow to the ends of the earth. From Mrs. Meredith's description, Kittywas brimful of life and high spirits, affectionate and generous, butquite a "handful" to manage. "She always dared infinitely more than everI did, and was always the first to get into scrapes! But so loyal andhonourable!"

  "I should imagine every fellow for miles around must be head and ears inlove with her!"

  "That, of course, but she is not a bit silly about boys, beingpractically a boy herself in disposition. Only lately she has begun todo up her hair and is to be presented next season when she will beconsidered 'out.'"

  "And be married straight away!"

  "I suppose so," said Joyce proudly. "She is such a darling!"

  "I can believe it," said he.

  Jack had been so completely captivated by Kitty's photograph that Joycehad generously told him to keep it. She had other copies and thought itas well that he should cultivate an ideal for the elevation of his soul."It is good for a man to look up to a really good girl with admirationand trust; it should make him determined to become worthy of thepossession even of her picture."

  "It is something for a fellow to live up to," Jack had blushinglyreturned, full of delight in the gift. He mentally resolved to go insearch of the original the very first time he obtained furlough and tobe satisfied with no other. If the Fates would only keep her fancy-freefor himself!

  He carried the picture home and Tommy was tormented with curiosityconcerning the face which was so like Mrs. Meredith's and yet not hers.

  The memory of that afternoon at Darjeeling and of the photograph in hisdispatch-box came to taunt Jack in the moonlight as he wended his way tothe bungalow at the Police Lines, fresh as he was from the experience ofa married woman's kisses given in response to his own.

  Tommy was at home and awake when he came in, and remarked bluntlyconcerning his extraordinary pallor.

  "How did it go off? Was Barrington Fox Esquire particularly cordial?"

  "He wasn't there," came gruffly from Jack.

  "Not there?"

  "I'll repeat it if you like."

  "Don't be ratty. I was only expressing natural surprise. Possibly sheknew he wouldn't be there when she asked you."

  "You are as uncharitable as everyone else."

  "No, I am merely somewhat discerning."

  "It does you credit."

  "My son, hearken to the words of wisdom and the voice of thesage--'Whoso is partner with a thief, hateth his own soul----'"

  "Oh, go to blazes," said Jack pouring himself out a whisky-and-soda.

  "'A man that flattereth his neighbour spreadeth a net for his feet.'"

  "I've been to Church--Drop it."

  "'Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of hisfriend,'" Tommy persisted with a twinkle in his eye.

  "Thanks, I'm much obliged but it isn't necessary. Have a cigarette."

  It was mentioned that the doctor dined at the Bara Koti that evening.

  When the news of an extra mouth to feed was conveyed to the cook in thekitchen, Abdul surveyed three snipe among potato chips with a problem ofmultiplication vexing his soul.

  "With the _padre-sahib_ they are three, yet without warning they bring afourth! Now what to do? _ai khodar_!--how to arrange?"

  "Why disturb thyself, brother?" said the _khansaman_ sympathetically ashe put extra plates on the rack of the hot-case in which an open fire ina cast-iron cooker burned fiercely. "Cut each bird in two and make toastfor each portion, in this way there will be some left for thee and me.If the master say aught, ask if it is his almighty will that the_shikari_ be sent out at a moment's notice in the moonlight to shootanother bird."

  The fine sarcasm of his advice created a general laugh of good-humouramong the servants assembled to serve the dinner. "In my last place,"continued the Mohammedan butler, "my Sahib who had no wife would, out ofsheer provocation, bring six or eight sahibs home to eat with him, andcould we protest? _Yah, khodar!_ that instant with two kicks would wehave been dismissed, and he so ready with his boot! No! Quickly we putwater in the soup; with much energy we opened a tin of salmon, cut uponions, fetched a cucumber from the vegetable garden for salad. Then inthe fowl-house, what a cackling and screeching as the _masalchi_ chasedfowls and cut their throats! _Jhut!_ they were cleaned and how long doesit take to grill meat? In fifteen minutes from the order, the dinner wasready, pudding and all. When a store-room is well-stocked, it is like_jadu_[14] to make a dinner for one capable of feeding six and eveneight!"

  [Footnote 14: Magic.]

  All great talkers are unconscious egotists, as the Merediths found theReverend John Pugh who enjoyed the sound of his own voice even when hewas not in the pulpit, and retailed stock jokes and anecdotes to thecompany in general, forgetful of the fact that the same jokes andanecdotes had been recounted by him at every house on his visiting list.At dessert Joyce was glad to slip away to the drawing-room taking withher the doctor, who was permitted to smoke while he played to her on thepiano.

  Joyce noticed that he was disinclined for conversation and was out ofsorts and dull, as though inwardly disturbed and uninterested even athis music. He took an early opportunity to leave and was accompanied tothe doorstep by Joyce, her husband being still pinned to the dining-roomby the parson whose anecdotes were inexhaustible.

  "When next you see your friend, Miss Bright," said he, apropos ofnothing, as he shook hands again, "tell her, will you?--that I know howto take a snub."

  "Why?--has Honor snubbed you?" she asked surprised.

  He smiled unpleasantly. "It was equal to a knock-down blow."

  "But that is so unlike Honor. How do you mean?"

  "I am not complaining, for I dare say I deserve it, but I would like herto know that I shall not willingly put myself in the way of the sameagain."

  "Oh--" light had dawned on Joyce. "It must be because she thinks youfailed Elsie Meek. She heard that you never went to Sombari on Fridaynight though you left the party for the purpose of seeing how she wasdoing. Honor came here straight from the Mission."

  "It was on the steps of the Mission bungalow that we met, and I wassentenced without a charge."

  "Are you very angry?"

  "I don't think I am," he returned proudly. "It is nothing ofconsequence."

  "But would it have made any difference had you gone?" she pressed. "Iask because I feel responsible for having kept you with me." Her voicequavered with emotion and her lovely eyes drooped.

  "It would have made no difference." Captain Dalton condescended toexplain Elsie Meek's condition and the fatal consequence of the suddenexertion she had taken in her delirium and high fever. "She needed veryclose watching. Unfortunately that was not given."

  "Then it was the nurse's fault?"

  "It was an accident. They could not afford a second nurse and Mrs. Meekwas physically unfit to do her share."

  "I shall tell Honor."

  "Please do not do so. I prefer to let the matter stand. It will be quitefor the best," and with that he was gone.

  However, Joyce took the first opportunity of repeating the conversationto her friend. "So you see, dear," she concluded as they talked togetherat the Club the following afternoon, "he was not at all to blame."

  "Perhaps not, but it makes no difference. I am deeply disappointed inhim. It was his duty to have gone, and a man who is capable ofneglecting a duty for pleasure falls short of the standard I cherish,"returned Honor coldly.

  "I did not know you could be so hard!" said Joyce reproachfully.

  "I am not hard. It is absolutely nothing to me and Captain Dalton caresvery little what I think."

  Joyce wondered if that were so, for she remembered his abstraction; hismention of Honor had b
een a bolt from the blue.

  "I do not understand why he said 'it would be quite for the best,'"Joyce speculated.

  "It proves how little he cares one way or another!" Honor answered,wounded but proud. "And I have had a lesson never to mistake a goose fora swan again."

  "But he was good to you!"

  "And for that I immediately dressed him up in every virtue; I was just afool--like any schoolgirl! Please don't let us talk of Captain Daltonany more. He does not interest me at all."

  She knew it was untrue to say that, but it was too late to recall herwords as she turned and faced Captain Dalton, himself, who had come upfrom behind them and must have heard her concluding remarks. He wasapparently searching for the Collector who had returned reluctantly tocamp and, as Honor passed on with a bow, which he acknowledgeddistantly, he and Joyce moved away together.

  "I wish you would chase Honor and bring her to reason," said Joycechildishly.

  "I would much prefer to stay with you, if I may?" said he impressively."Besides, why should I?"

  "Because," said Joyce with childish impulsiveness, "Honor Bright wasvery fond of you."

  In a flash, Dalton's eyes seemed to dilate and then contract. "Whatmakes you think so?" he asked abruptly.

  "I knew it--I felt it. She could not hide it from me."

  "Did she ever say anything?" he asked with assumed indifference.

  "Not in words--but when she spoke of you--oh, the light in her eyes, andthe changing colour!--perhaps I should not tell you this?--butmisunderstandings are wretched."

  Her blue eyes apologised so prettily that he smiled with peculiarradiance.

  "You are a very good friend," he said with amused indulgence.

  "Who wouldn't be that to a girl like Honor!"

  "And if I tell you I appreciate that, you must forgive me if I wouldrather not discuss Honor Bright any more. Are you very lonely now yourhusband has left?"

  "I shall be, after today!" she pouted in self-pity.

  "Then I shall call round for you tomorrow afternoon and take you for aspin?"

  "I shall look forward to it. Will you teach me to drive?"

  "With pleasure."

  "How delightful of you!"

  "The pleasure will be equally mine," he said quite charmingly for him;and after further pleasantries rather foreign to his habit, he left herand drove away.

 
E. W. Savi's Novels