Lieutenant Chumbley.
A rapid and pleasant voyage, with a touch here and there at the various ports, giving the two girls, just fresh from their life of seclusion, a glance at the strange mixture of nationalities collected together in these pauses of commercial transit.
It was one continuous scene of interest to Grey Stuart, who was never weary of gazing at the hurrying crowds and the strange customs of these far-off towns; while Helen, if persuaded to land, found the heat too oppressive, and preferred a cane lounge in the shade of an awning, with four or five gentlemen in attendance with fans, iced water, or fruit.
The Resident was constant in his attentions to her, and tried, whenever the steamer put into port, to get her to join some excursion, the most notable of which was at Ceylon; but she invariably refused, when he would laughingly turn to Grey and ask her to be his companion.
Mrs Doctor looked serious at first; but, particular as she was, she gave way, for the Resident’s behaviour to the bright English girl was beyond reproach.
“You’ll understand Harley better by-and-by,” said the doctor. “He’s a very old friend of her father, and he might be the girl’s uncle from his way.”
“But do you think it will be proper to let her go?” said the little lady.
“I’ll answer for Harley’s conduct, my dear. If ever there was a gentleman it is he. Let her go.”
So Grey often became Neil Harley’s companion in these excursions, returning delighted with the wonders of each place; while the Resident was loud in his praises of her quiet, sensible appreciation of all they saw.
“She’s a very amiable, sweet, intelligent girl, Mrs Bolter,” he said one evening, as he sat with the doctor and his wife.