"It's a stiffer job than I expected, and out here it's so confoundedly hard to get things moving."
Confidences are contagious, and the two young people exchanged many ideas and opinions as they drew nearer, and yet nearer, to the suburbs of Madras. They did not touch on any deep or vital subjects, but agreed in their love of dogs, and of most animals; in a liking for country life,—raspberry and currant tart, Lehar's waltzes, and Rudyard Kipling. Barbie talked frankly, yet shyly, of the farm,—her school-fellows, and school-days, but on the subject of her career as a grown-up young lady she was dumb.
"You will be returning to England this spring, won't you?" asked her companion. The question was in the nature of a discreet feeler.
"My father's time is up," she replied, "and he and my mother go home in April—as for me——" she came to an abrupt stop.
"As for you?" he repeated, looking up at her shadowed blue eyes, and noticing the wistful misery of her face.
"Nothing is decided," she answered with a gulp; and a spasm, half of laughing, half sobbing, caught her breath.
Mallender was suddenly seized by an irresistible desire to speak. His mother's warm impulsive blood was beating in his veins. Why should he not urge upon this girl, that she had her own life to live; that she must not sacrifice her youth, and future, to the selfish demands of three elderly people, who had enjoyed their day?
As he struggled between a temptation to deliver his soul, and a conviction that he would be guilty of "beastly cheek," his thoughts were put to flight by Miss Miller, who exclaimed:
"Here we are in Vepery, close to our lines, and your dreadful dusty walk is nearly ended!"
In another moment, they had come within sight of a bungalow, and on its gate was a board, bearing the name, "Colonel Miller, 20th Carnatic Rifles."