"She has? How amazing!"

"I see you don't know much of Burma yet."

"No; so far I am only acquainted with the bazaar prices, the gorgeous flowers, delicious fruit and futurist insects!"

"Well, women do most of the business and do it well; the men are a lazy, loafing lot; very genial and sporting, fond of c.o.c.k-fighting and gambling--absolutely regardless of expense or debt. Mrs. Salter is rich; if you will look round now you will see her--the little woman with the yellow fan and diamond comb; notice her blazing ear-rings; and yet I have seen the same lady with her petticoats kilted high, standing knee-deep in a rice cart and diving with both hands into the grain to test its quality!"

"That is a very pretty girl with flowers in her hair, beside her,"

remarked Sophy; "look, she is nodding to you. Who is she?"

"Her name is Ma Chit; she is Mrs. Salter's cousin. Sometimes she drops in when I am there; the Salters live close to my chummery. I have a munshi now and I am learning Burmese."

"And--and I am learning German!"

"How do you hit it off with your uncle?"

"Please don't call him my uncle."

"Then I am answered."

Sophy laughed and coloured brilliantly.

"I suppose so. We do not coalesce; our ideas, age and country are different; he is hard as a rock, brusque and overbearing--but amazingly clever and energetic. He seems to hold so many threads in his hands, to deal with such numbers of people; his correspondence is enormous; his office, when he is at home, is surrounded and stormed by all sorts of people--Mohammedans, Chinese, Burmese, all waiting on his good pleasure and his nod. I scarcely see anything of him except at meals, and then he is too much taken up with eating to have time to spare for conversation; but we meet in one spot--music-land! He plays the violin; we do Beethoven together and are great friends; then when the piano closes----" she paused.

"You are enemies?"

"Not exactly enemies, but I do hate the way he gobbles his food and bullies the servants; and then he says such rude things about England--perhaps it's only done on purpose to make me angry? He declares we are a wretched, rotten, played-out old country, going down the hill as hard as we can fly. He is narrow-minded, too; so arrogant--the Germans can do no wrong, the English can never do right.

I am telling dreadful tales, am I not? All the same, he has an English wife, and is simply devoted to Aunt Flora; nothing is too good for her.

It is really funny to see this rough overbearing man so gentle and thoughtful. But then, she is a dear!"

"Oh, is she?"

"You shall see for yourself. You must come to tea on Sunday. I am sure I may invite you; Aunt Flora is so kind and sympathetic, and has a look of mother."

"I'll come all right, if you think she'll not be _durwaza bund_."

"No, she is ever so much better, but the last few years has been more or less an invalid."

"What is her particular illness? Is it fever?"

"Fever and neuralgia. Some days she will lie in a darkened room and see no one but her ayah; she won't even admit me, though occasionally I do slip in; she has had a bad attack lately, but is now convalescent.

Oh, I see Mrs. Muller moving at last; now we shall be going."

"I'm afraid you've found this show a hit dull."

"Not at all--it has been a most interesting sight; I don't know when I have enjoyed myself so much."

"So have I; it has been a----"

Whatever Shafto was about to add was interrupted by Mrs. Muller, who pounced on his companion with a laughing apology, and handed her over to the charge of Herr Bernhard.

Two days later Mrs. Gregory and Mrs. Milward called at "Heidelberg,"

and on the veranda encountered Sophy, who was hurrying out to keep an appointment to practise duets with Frau Muller.

"I'm so dreadfully sorry," she said, when the first greetings were over, "but I must go; I'll get back as soon as ever I can. Aunt Flora is at home."

But when Sophy returned the visitors had already departed, leaving their hostess a good deal disturbed. Indeed, Mrs. Krauss's languid spirits had been violently shaken. Mrs. Milward had remarked on Sophy's changed appearance, and her tone had been hostile.

"It is very plain that Burma does not suit her," she said. "I could not believe that any girl would have altered in so short a time; I shall write to her mother at once."

"Oh, dear Mrs. Milward, what do you mean?"

"I should think anyone could _see_ what I mean," rejoined the lady, who was very angry and had heard the tale of Sophy's heavy cares.

"The girl looks ill. I have known Sophy for years--known her since she was a small child--and I can a.s.sure you that she has never been accustomed to a strenuous indoor employment, to getting no exercise or relaxation--or ever meeting people of her own age."

Her hostess was struck dumb; her torpid conscience suddenly awoke and condemned her; Mrs. Milward, who was immediately leaving Rangoon and had no fear of retaliation, continued with ruthless animosity:

"It is true what you say--that your niece has been a wonderful comfort to _you_, but will it be a comfort to her mother when she hears that she is merely a hard-worked lady-help? I think it would be well to arrange that she should return home with _me_."

Tears now trembled in the culprit's dark eyes, and she fumbled for her handkerchief.

"Oh, Mrs. Milward," she said piteously, "I do see what you mean. I have been ill and stupid; my husband has always spoiled me, and thinks that other people are only brought into the world to wait upon _me_. I realise my selfishness now. Yes, you are right, the child looks pale and no longer flits about the house singing her little songs. I beg you will not alarm my sister; I will undertake that things are altered and you may depend upon me, dear Mrs. Milward; you have made me feel horribly guilty. I know I am a self-centred invalid, but I intend to mend my ways." And tears, no longer to be restrained, trickled down the worn, cadaverous face of Mrs. Krauss.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE CHINESE SHOP

The solemn promise Mrs. Krauss had made to Mrs. Milward was honourably redeemed, and a new and agreeable vista opened before Sophy Leigh. Her aunt roused herself, as it were, from a long sleep; the little bay horse was recalled from Prome; a Rolls-Royce was purchased (Herr Krauss signed the cheque without a murmur); a highly-recommended Portuguese butler was engaged to undertake the heavier forms of housekeeping; and Mrs. Krauss once more re-entered society--figuratively leading by the hand a lovely niece, of whom she was unaffectedly proud and who, she imparted to her friends, "had given her a new interest in life."

Hitherto, she declared, she had felt like a flower that was withering for the lack of sun; now Sophy supplied the sunshine. Sophy was endowed with a personality that inspired happiness, and looked on the world as the abode of joy. And so at last pretty Miss Leigh tasted the delights of the Gymkhana Club, and took part in tennis, golf and dancing. There were boating parties on the Royal lakes and picnics in the woods. She made many acquaintances and had quite "a waiting list"

of partners. Sometimes of a morning, but much more frequently of an evening, after tennis or boating, Mrs. Krauss would drive down to Phayre Street. There the shops were on the best European lines, and exhibited all the latest articles from London, Paris, or Berlin, tempting rupees out of people's pockets. Mrs. Krauss was a liberal purchaser, whether of European stores, fancy goods, drapery, or jewellery; this generous aunt presented Sophy with a pair of heavy gold bangles, a string of pearls and an exquisite fan and kimono. These latter were found at an Indian repository owned by a well-known Bengali, with a large clientele (Burmese themselves are too indolent to make successful shopkeepers--they much prefer to look on, and laugh, and bargain). In this and other emporiums of the same cla.s.s were to be found rare embroideries, ivory carvings, eggsh.e.l.l china, Oriental draperies, jade, and piles of Chinese and j.a.panese silks of the most exquisite fabric and colour. Sophy liked to wander round, to marvel and admire, but soon discovered that to do the latter was to be immediately endowed with her fancy--be it an enormous Chinese jar, or a lacquered cabinet, or a mere silver bowl. Mrs. Krauss firmly resisted every denial and excuse.

"My dear," she would protest, "do not refuse me; mine is the pleasure.

I don't know how to spend all my money, and never until now have I had a girl to whom I could offer presents--and to _give_ is such a joy. I am a rich woman, with no belongings except you and yours. Certainly, I don't deny that this big gong" (the present in question) "is rather a clumsy affair, but it is old and a beauty. What a deep, rich, melancholy tone! When struck it seems to tell of some sad, sad story that happened hundreds of years ago. After you are married, dear child, it will be so useful in your hall."

On these excursions there was one little shop that was never neglected or overlooked; this was situated in a narrow slum, a long way from the great artery of traffic and fashion. After negotiating various tortuous windings and encountering horrible gusts of stale _napie_ and the ever-odorous _dorian_, the car halted at a certain corner, and Mrs.

Krauss and her companion made their way into a narrow ill-lit lane, and entered a mean den kept by a fat, crafty-looking Chinaman and his lean, pock-marked son. There was, as far as Sophy could discern, nothing whatever to interest or attract upon the premises. The stock was ordinary and scanty; a few coa.r.s.e china tea-sets, some teapots in cane baskets, paper fans, lacquer trays and odds and ends of the cheapest rubbish; but Mrs. Krauss solemnly a.s.sured her niece that "it was the _only_ place in Rangoon for the real guaranteed netsukes," of which she was making a collection.

A j.a.panese netsuke is an elaborately-carved ivory b.u.t.ton of various shapes and sizes--no two are alike; they take the form of men or animals and, as a rule, are executed with amazing delicacy, and, if signed and old, are of considerable value.

Mrs. Krauss, who spoke a little Chinese--and was proud of her accomplishment--appeared to know the fat proprietor rather well, and together they would retire into a dim inner recess, illumined by an oil lamp hanging before an altar, and there examine, bargain and gloat over treasures.

Meanwhile Sophy, who remained in the outer shop, was offered a seat and tea, without milk or sugar, in what resembled a doll's cup; by her aunt's express desire she always accepted this refreshment, although she found the decoction unspeakably nasty; it seemed to taste of an evil odour. Sometimes Mrs. Krauss would linger for fifteen minutes, sometimes for longer, talking over netsukes and Hong Kong with Ah Shee.

The atmosphere of the place was overpowering; such a stifling reek of a mysterious effluvium, the combination of joss sticks, stale fish, rancid oil, and a sickly taint like the fetid breath of some mortal sickness; it made Sophy feel faint and, after a short interval, she invariably made her way into the street, where the air--though by no means fresh--was an improvement on that within the shop.