"Eighteen, will have to take to gloves and corsets," said Nicky, as he fumbled for his pipe.
"Fancy mentioning such an article in the free-as-air jungle," protested Nancy; "and anyway, my waist is only twenty inches."
"Nancy, spare us these particulars," protested her father. "One would think you were among a pack of women."
"Never mind him, Nancy," said Byng. "Tell him it's too late to start to keep you in bounds—and as for waists—Ted's is fifty."
"Daddy, I do wonder what you have got for me," she asked abruptly. "Won't you tell me?"
"I know," said Mayne; "it's awfully nice, you'll like it better than anything—and it's coming all the way from London."
"Then it must have cost a heap of money," she exclaimed. "Oh, Daddy!"
"Oh, Nancy," he echoed, "it's time we made a start; the shikaris are hanging about, so don't let us waste any more time," and he rose, and broke up the party.
Those three days in the Holikul jungles were a delightful, and flawless memory, to all concerned. How rarely can mortals say this! Sunburnt and weary, the Fairplains party returned to the shelter of a roof, and a daily delivery of letters, and parcels. The habit had arrived—moreover, it fitted.
Two evenings later, Travers and Mayne, Nancy and the head shikari, had been for a short, perfunctory beat, round the base of the hill on which the bungalow was situated. They were homeward bound, the bag, a mere peacock. Mayne and his host were a little in advance of Nancy, and last came the shikari, carrying the peacock, and Travers' gun.