"Mo' stink," she observed, cheerfully, and pointed to the dressing-table.
Margaret's eyes followed the big black finger to where a bunch of aloe plumes lay between the candles on the white cloth, brilliantly red. The sight of them startled the girl sharply. She went across and raised them.
"Where did they come from?" she asked quickly.
"That Kafir," grinned Fat Mary. "Missis's Kafir, he bring 'im."
"What did he say? Did he give any message?"
"No," replied Fat Mary. "Jus' stink-flowers, an' give me Scotchman."
"Scotchman" is Kafir slang for a florin; it has for an origin a myth reflecting on the probity of a great race. But Margaret did not inquire; she was pondering a possible significance in this gift of bitter blooms.
Fat Mary eyed her acutely while she stood in thought.
"He say don't tell nobody," she remarked casually. "I say no fear—me! I don't tell. Missis like that Kafir plenty?"
"Mary," said Margaret. "You can go now. I shan't want you."