At last the pair set off, armed with huge baskets, towards the sun-blistered door let into the old brick wall of the garden.
"I will join you as soon as I can," Augusta called after them kindly.
"I hope she won't!" said Colonel Crayfield, to the malicious delight of Stella, who promptly echoed the hope. For the first time she felt reconciled to the tedious duty, for surely now was her chance to coax Colonel Crayfield into giving her at least some sort of notion as to what was to happen.
As they opened the rickety door he contrived to touch her hand gently, again as they closed it behind them; then, rather to his discomposure, she suddenly slipped her hand confidingly into his.
"Do tell me," she urged; "I know you've got some plan up your sleeve."
She found her hand tightly imprisoned. "You are sure you want to go to India?" he asked her.
"You know! I've told you—it's the dream of my life."
"As a governess, or a missionary?"
"Oh, don't be so tiresome—as anything!"
"Well," he restrained himself still.