And with a nod the new assistant found himself dismissed.
On the very first Thursday after his arrival in Rangoon, Shafto presented himself at the “Barn,” a residence purchased many years previously for the use of the then reigning Gregory.
The house was large but unostentatious; the well-matured beautiful grounds and gardens were notable even in Rangoon. A recent acquaintance, who escorted Shafto, presented him to Mrs. Gregory, a smart, sandy-haired little lady of five or six and thirty, with an animated, expressive face, intelligent grey eyes, and slightly prominent white teeth. She was exquisitely dressed in some soft pale blue material, and wore a row of large and lustrous pearls. Among the crowd of guests the newcomer discovered, to his great relief, several of his fellow-assistants, and not a few passengers from the Blankshire, including Mrs. Milward, who hailed him with a radiant countenance and plump, uplifted hands.
“My dear Douglas! How I’ve been longing to see you! I’m off to Mandalay to-morrow morning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“And I’m very sorry to go—there’s such lots to do and see in this surprising place, but Ella has nailed me down to a date. Have you seen anything of Sophy—I mean,” correcting herself, “Miss Leigh?”
“No, I’ve been tremendously busy fitting on my new harness and have had no time for calling.”
“And yet you are here!” she protested, with arched brows.
“Oh yes, but this is official; Gregory as good as ordered me to wait upon his consort.”
“Hush, hush, Douglas! She is a great friend of mine—my own cousin, and a dear. Of course, I know that George looks as if he had swallowed the fire-irons, but that really means nothing; he is obliged to keep all you naughty boys in order!”