In another moment the grey horse had sprung forward, and the ecstatic vision was swept from her contemplation. Still there yet remained the Trotters! She turned herself about, looked at them with rude significance, and nodded with imperial condescension. Who would suppose, from her manner, that her neighbour was a close, intimate friend of many years' standing, and had once nursed her like a sister, when she and Nani were both down with jaundice?
No, no; she had forgotten all that. Those common Trotter people must be taught their place, and with this determination Mrs. Chandos proceeded indoors.
On Sunday evening the chaplain from Rajahpore held service in the little conventicle at Manora; his congregation consisted of the sugar people and a few native Christians. On this particular day Pussy and Nicky were the sole representatives of the Chandos household. As Mrs. Lepell and her nephew were walking homewards they overtook the pair.
"Pray what has become of Verona this evening?" inquired the lady.
"She has such a bad headache!"
"That is unusual. What has given it to her?"
"Crying, I think," replied the ever indiscreet Pussy. "She cried a lot this afternoon."
"I hope she has not had bad news?"
"Oh, no—ah! but mother asked a friend of hers to lunch—that Captain Haig—and he never came," announced Pussy, regardless of her brother's angry nip. "And mother was so vexed."
"Poor Verona!" said Mrs. Lepell to herself, as they came to the gate of the Chandos abode.