"Please lift me down," murmured Barbie, "and don't wait."
"I thought you could ride anything, my girl," said her father, as she limped up to him.
"The old Nizam was blown, and came down at a wall."
"I hope he hasn't barked his knees, eh, Mallender? Very kind of you to bring my little girl home. You'll excuse this kit—it's a Europe morning, you know, and at this hour you must take us as you find us."
"Of course, sir, of course," assented the visitor, "it's barely nine o'clock."
"Have a peg, and a cheroot?"
"No,—thank you,—it's a bit early!"
"Ah, you young fellows are different to what we were! you're all for tea, and Pérrier water! Hullo, here comes Harris in his war-paint," as Colonel Harris, bestriding a fat charger, and attended by a syce, rode proudly into the compound. He saluted his friend, and contemporary, then stared aggressively at Mallender, who supported his gaze with imperturbable sang-froid.
"Barbie took a toss," explained her parent, "and Captain Mallender has just brought her home."
"Oh, has he, eh! Good morning, Mallender—any the worse, Barbie?" he enquired, descending heavily as he spoke.