And she was happier than he in their new life. For in this land that is essentially a soldier's country, won by the sword, held by the sword, in spite of all that ignorant demagogues in England may say, Fred Daleham felt all the more keenly the disappointment of his inability to follow the career that he would have chosen. However, he was a healthy-minded young man, not given to brooding and vain regrets.
"Are you ready to start, dear?" he said to his sister now. "Shall I order the ponies?"
"I am ready. But have you finished your coffee?"
"Thanks, yes. We'll go off at once then, for I have a long morning's work, and we had better get our ride over while it's cool."
He shouted to his "boy" to order the syces, or grooms, to bring the ponies.
"Where are we going today, dear?" asked the girl, putting on her pith helmet.
"To the nursery first. I want to see if the young plants have suffered much from that hailstorm yesterday."
"Wasn't it awful? What would people in England say if they got hailstones like that on their heads?"
"Chunerbutty and I measured one that I picked up outside the withering shed," said the brother. "It was a solid lump of clear ice two inches long and one and a half broad."
"I couldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen them," observed the girl. "I wonder that everyone who is caught out in such a storm is not killed."