That was a judge's house. In fact it is only at Government House, or on occasions when His Excellency or the Commander-in-Chief honours the gathering, that it is _de rigueur_ to don our war-paint. Glad you think it so attractive! The younger men are getting lazy and prefer mufti when they can get off with it. I confess I think a well-made man never looks better than in full dress. Ah, here comes our Commander-in-Chief!

Perhaps you'd like to wait and have a look at him before we begin our walk."

Hester saw an elderly man of gracious presence advance along the crimson strip to greet the hostess, his refined face lit up by a smile of singular sweetness. He was followed by his suite.

"Very glad the Chief has put in an appearance," continued the major, "Mrs. Glanton will be gratified. Very good of him to come, he is a weary man often--has seen much service. There is the Brigadier coming to greet him."

"What a fine pair of soldiers they look!" said Hester.

"They are all that," a.s.sented Major Ryde warmly. "Glad we've got a man for a Brigadier at last, instead of the little spinning-top we had, who couldn't get on his horse without his syce's back for a foot-stool, and even when mounted, was so scared by his frisky mare's paces when the band began to play that he had her ears stopped with cotton wool!"

Hester laughed, but inwardly commented that there was more than one officer of the spinning-top order as she glanced at her rotund companion. They had now reached the shady walks which she had longed to penetrate, and not being given to repartee of the sort which fitted her companion's topics, the conversation threatened to languish.

"Your friend Clarice is a smart girl, Mrs. Rayner," he remarked, as he caught sight of a pair of strollers on a path alongside, separated by thick shrubs. "But, to my mind, she rather overdoes it at times. See how she's captured that 'griffin'? I can see her leading him about there,"

said the major, as he glanced maliciously through the tangled creepers.

"But don't you think people must learn to talk pleasantly about everything--and nothing--when they have a great deal of entertaining to do like Miss Glanton? They seem so hospitable and invite everybody."

"That's just what they do--invite 'everybody'! It's Mrs. Glanton's patent method of making herself popular. She loves the voice of the majority. Very pretty in you, however, to set it down to kindness and that sort of thing--wish we had more of the bloom of charity among us, but I fear it wears off like the lovely English bloom"; and the major cast an admiring glance on the fair face of his companion.

As the talk rolled on, Hester began to think that Major Ryde's remarks were more outspoken and personal than she had been used to think quite in good taste, though she could not help feeling half amused by the smart running commentary with which he enlarged on his fellow guests, as soon as they were out of hearing.

It was therefore with true pleasure that she perceived at a little distance a lady to whom she had drawn more than to any other since her coming to Madras.

"Oh, yes, that's Mrs. Fellowes, from the sepoy cantonment at Royapooram," a.s.sented Major Ryde, showing in his tone the contempt he affected for the Native Infantry.

Hester's smile had already beckoned the older lady. The major, perceiving that his _tete-a-tete_ was now interrupted, descried another companion and politely withdrew.

CHAPTER III.

The tank is an integral part of the Indian garden, but the sheet of water in Mrs. Glanton's compound was larger and more picturesque than any Hester had seen. It looked alluring now, framed by graceful over-hanging branches and flooded by the gorgeous tints of the setting sun which transfigured its stagnant green waters, making them sparkle like a bed of gems.

"Oh, what lovely red water lilies!" exclaimed Hester, as she gazed with delight on the great knotted tendrils and broad green leaves where the bright floating flowers nestled. "I've only seen white lilies, and none grow on our tank. It's only a dreary little pond. Do you think, Mrs.

Fellowes, I might possess myself of some of these beauties? They would add just the lacking colour to our white-walled dining-room."

"Well, my dear, I shouldn't think that an unattainable desire, though the stems are strong and fibrous. Come, let's think!----This excessively long parasol of mine may prove useful for once as a hook!"

But Hester, with playful agility, was already descending the flight of slippery steps which led to the darkening water, bent on capturing the prize. Stooping down she made a grasp at one of the nearest lilies, but the tangled stems were not so easily severed as she imagined.

"Take care, my dear," interjected Mrs. Fellowes with anxious eyes.

Suddenly Hester lost her footing on the slippery stone and found herself ankle deep in water, fortunately not overhead, for she had only slipped one step, the next flat green stone extending a good way out into the water. Her position, however, looked sufficiently alarming to her companion, who uttered a little cry and hastened to extend both her hands to help her.

The signal of distress happened to be heard by two strollers in the walk alongside, divided only from the tank-path by a thin jungly brake, through which the gleam of the water was visible. There was an instant crashing among the bushes, and in a moment Mark Cheveril appeared through the creepers just as Hester emerged from the water with a smiling face, though with dripping skirts, holding her trophy in her hand.

"Too late, Mr. Cheveril, in spite of your sudden display of knight-errantry!" Miss Glanton's metallic voice rang out from the cross walk where she appeared, looking by no means amiably on Hester and her companion. "You are a rash young person, Mrs. Rayner," she said, in a bantering tone. "The idea of venturing down those filthy, slithery steps! Why, some deadly snake might have been coiled on one of them! And your pretty frock entirely ruined! Mrs. Fellowes, what have you been about to let a new-comer run such risks?" she said pertly, glancing at the older lady; whereupon Hester forgot her wet shoes and stockings and ruined frock and hastened to defend her friend.

"Oh, indeed, it wasn't Mrs. Fellowes' fault, I even rejected the parasol she held out--but I've secured my trophy! This, Mrs. Fellowes, is Mr.

Cheveril I was telling you about," she said, introducing her friend.

The older lady held out her hand cordially; and when Mark looked into the refined, kindly face he felt sure that the daughter of the Pinkthorpe Rectory would have at least one wholly congenial friend.

Miss Glanton did not seem to approve of the new distribution of her guests, and said pointedly:

"Now, Mr. Cheveril, I must introduce you to my mother's fern-house. We were just on our way there when we heard your despairing cry, Mrs.

Rayner."

"Oh, come, give me at least the credit of the 'despairing cry,' as you call it," said Mrs. Fellowes. "I confess my nerves got the better of me.

Mrs. Rayner stood the test better than I did. But oh, my dear, you _are_ wet, we must see to those soaking shoes at once, they are dangerous!"

"Of course they are, Mrs. Rayner," said Miss Glanton decisively. "Here comes your husband, who will no doubt carry you off at once."

Hester felt rather like a naughty child when her husband surveyed her plight, with a more annoyed than sympathetic glance, and listened silently to the account of her misfortune.

"Of course you must go home at once, Hester, or you'll have a sharp attack of fever."

"Oh, don't be a prophet of evil, Mr. Rayner," broke in Mrs. Fellowes.

"But it will be wise to go--or, we might retire. I wonder if Mrs.

Glanton has one of those delightful charcoal arrangements for drying clothes?" she asked, turning to the daughter of the house.

"The mater does not possess anything so useful, I fear," replied Clarice, shaking her head.

"I shall go home! A just punishment for my behaviour," said Hester quickly, thinking there would be compensations, seeing that she would carry off her husband and Mark Cheveril. Her disappointment was therefore considerable when she perceived that she was to be bundled off alone.

"All right, Hester," said her husband. "I'll call your carriage; and look here, when you reach home, you can tell the horse-keeper to bring round my mail-phaeton for us.... You are dining with us, I think, Cheveril? I shall drive you home."

"Thanks," responded Mark, "but shall we not accompany Mrs. Rayner? Will that not be simplest?"--"and pleasantest," he was about to add, when he recollected his semi-hostess was by his side.

"Oh, but you cannot escape so, Mr. Cheveril," she expostulated. "Why, you haven't even paid your respects to my mother yet!"

"You are right. You cannot omit that pleasure, Cheveril," said Mr.

Rayner, in a ceremonious tone. "Besides, I was in search of you. The Brigadier wants to see you; it seems you have eluded him too."

Again the arrangement of the guests did not please Miss Glanton, though she felt willing to speed the parting guest. The two gentlemen disappeared and she had to be contented to bring up the rear with the ladies.

The drive between the English habitations in Madras is often long in that city of "magnificent distances." The sudden tropical dusk had fallen on the landscape. Her Indian home looked dreary to Hester when she reached it. She felt, moreover, depressed by the events of the afternoon, and flung herself into a wicker chair in the verandah. Mrs.

Glanton's exposition of her "neutral party" had jarred upon her. Major Ryde's talk was far from inspiring, and this stupid escapade, which had obliged her to be despatched home like a punished child, and over which Alfred had looked undeniably annoyed, was vexing. And as for Mark Cheveril, he might as well have still been on the _Bokhara_ for all she had seen of him!

A suspicion of homesickness greater than she had yet felt was stealing over her. The only bright spot seemed Mrs. Fellowes' warm friendship; and she was now to have a fresh proof of it.

The maty boy came dragging a big cage-like coop of bamboo into the verandah. "Dosani Fellowes done send her _jhapra_ for to hook up Missus," was Ramaswamy's rendering of her message.

"What?" asked Hester, laughing. The ayah came to the rescue, having already made acquaintance with the useful article then coming into vogue in the fireless bedrooms of Madras.

"Dat boy one humbug! I know all 'bout bamboo. Big chattee charcoal done put under, it make werry warm Missus clothes."