“I’m afraid my eye will not be of much use,” protested Shafto, “I am most frightfully sorry for what you tell me, but Miss Leigh has lots of pals. There are the Pomeroys, Maitlands and——”
“Yes, that’s true,” interrupted Mrs. Milward impatiently, “but she has no way of getting about. Krauss takes the car and is away in it all day. I gather that he has the strict German idea about a girl’s being brought up to cook, to sew, to slave, to find all her interests in her home! In fact, he told me so plainly; he also added that he had paid for Sophy’s passage and implied that he intended to have the worth of his money—his pound of flesh!”
“Brute!” ejaculated Shafto.
“Agreed! I have enlisted one friend for the poor child. Polly Gregory—she is so clever, clear-headed and decided, and will be a rock of strength—she is sure to like Sophy, eh?”
“Oh yes, that will be all right!”
“I put in a good word for you too, Master Douglas.”
“That was kind,” and he swept off his straw hat.
“I wonder if that’s meant sarcastic? Perhaps you think good wine needs no bush? Yes, and I’ve told Polly I knew you as a boy—and how, instead of quill-driving, you hoped to wear a sword.”
“Hope told a flattering tale,” he answered with a laugh. “Don’t forget that the pen is the mightier of the two.”
“No,” she dissented; “I back the sword, though it’s rarely drawn now, thank goodness. Well, I’ve said my say and given you my impressions and instructions; we must go back and join the Burra Mems. I shall write to you from Mandalay and see you later, when I pass through to Calcutta. Now you had better go and try to get a set of tennis,” and, with a wave of adieu, Mrs. Milward strolled away across the grass, an attractive personality with her fresh complexion, soft round face, dark pencilled brows, and bewitching mauve toilet—which toilet was subsequently tabooed by her daughter as “too young”!