‘It is certainly very inconvenient,’ I remarked carelessly.
‘I suppose, Robert dear,’ said Janie, in a dubious and hesitating manner,—‘I suppose we could not offer to take in Margaret till Uncle Henry returns from China?’
I started. The idea had not presented itself to me before, and it was certainly not a pleasant one. I hope I am not of an inhospitable turn of mind; but the prospect of having a perfect stranger located beneath our roof for such a length of time was anything but agreeable to me. I remembered Janie’s want of companionship, and the many times I had had to resign the society of my brother-officers on her account, and felt resigned; but the next moment I thought of all my quiet evenings with my loving little wife being broken in upon; of our cosy walks, and talks, and drives being done away with, and for six long months—and I daresay I did look blank. Indeed, I must have done so; for Janie, who is not, generally speaking, what is termed quick of observation, saw the change in my countenance and commented upon it.
‘You don’t like the notion, Robert dear?’ she said, in a tone of disappointment.
‘Well, Janie, I can’t say I do; but if it must be, it must be. What does your uncle say on the subject?’
‘He says it would be a great convenience, of course, and that he does not know to whom else to apply, or he would not trouble us. And Margaret and I were at school together, Robert: we were brought up quite like sisters; so it would seem strange if she were to go to anyone else. And it is only for six months; and Uncle Henry says that he does not expect us to be put to any expense about it, for that he—’
‘Oh, blow the expense!’ I irreverently interrupted. ‘When does Colonel Anstruther leave Madras, Janie?’
‘Next week; and Margaret is to arrive the week after.’
‘And what arrangements can he make for her joining us at Mushin-Bunda?’