“Behold! we are sisters in command. I rule men, you women. It will, I think, O Sister, rest with you if I stay or no!”
“You’re staying!” flatly replied Jane Cruikshanks. “Come and wash your hands.”
“I wash them after food.”
“You wash them before, here. Come!”
Half a moment’s hesitation and Zarah turned to follow the one person who was ultimately to win her respect, if not her affection.
“I will first command my men to depart.”
The girls hung out of every window, the servants peeked round the corners of the house, a still greater crowd collected to watch beautiful, disdainful Zarah when she appeared at the door and raised her right hand as a sign of dismissal to the armed escort.
A firework display could hardly have been more entrancing to the native onlookers than the escort’s departure.
With a shout the men flung themselves into their saddles, pulled their horses until they reared, fired a salvo of farewell, and tore through the gates like a cyclone, homeward bound; upon which Miss Amelia, who believed in doing her duty against the most appalling odds, trotted out to fetch the girl in.
“My dear!” she said sweetly, “I’m afraid the rice will be somewhat heavy if you delay much longer, oh! and look, they have forgotten the dromedaries!”