"Francis," she said, "you have known me as a baba, and have always been good to me."
"No, no," he protested, "Missy good to me."
"Yes, you have," she contradicted flatly, "and you know it, Francis—and I want you to help me now."
"Whatever the Missy says, that I do," and once more he salaamed with both hands.
"Well, I want you to do a good deal! You know that I was married by the Padre Sahib, because my father wished it, and I was thankful to please him, but it is not a good marriage; and I do not intend to leave here with the Captain Sahib on Wednesday, but will go down to Nurse Jane at Coimbatore instead—and you must manage it."
"Nurse Jane, Missy," he repeated, "but for why? That very, awfully foolish business. The Captain Sahib very nice gentleman. Master like him,—everyone too much like him."
"And I," pointing to herself, "do not like him! Francis, can you understand?" and she gazed at him steadily.
Francis made no answer, but looked down, and gravely contemplated his flexible brown toes.
"Listen to me," she continued, "to-morrow night, I am leaving Fairplains; you will get a bandy, and coolies, for the luggage, and the ayah; also I am taking Togo. If I return to England, he shall be in your keeping. At present, he and I, comfort one another. I will ride the grey pony down the ghât, and Tumbie syce can attend, and bring him back. Later, all my belongings are to be sent to Coimbatore. Do you bring them yourself. I shall have much to say to you—to-night it hurts me to talk."
"May I speak one word, Missy? Now you are married to this gentleman Captain,—suppose you run away, he making plenty bobbery; he not swearing or calling names, that gentleman I know. All the same, I think he is strong,—and there will be much trouble."