, boyish face looking up at
him from under the coquettish straw hat, and he wished that he had the
courage to tell her in her own language that she was just too sweet for
anything. But he feared above all things lest he should offend her,
and so put an end to their present pleasant intimacy. So his compliment
dwindled into a smile.

"You look very happy," said he.

"Well, who could help feeling good with this dry, clear air, and the
blue sky and the crisp, yellow sand, and a superb donkey to carry you.
I've just got everything in the world to make me happy."

"Everything?"

"Well, everything that I have any use for just now."

"I suppose you never know what it is to be sad?"

"Oh, when I _am_ miserable I am just too miserable for words. I've sat
and cried for days and days at Smith's College, and the other girls were
just crazy to know what I was crying about, and guessing what the reason
was that I wouldn't tell, when all the time the real true reason was
that I didn't know myself. You know how it comes like a great dark
shadow over you, and you don't know why or wherefore, but you've just
got to settle down to it and be miserable."

"But you never had any real cause?"

"No, Mr. Stephens, I've had such a good time all my life, that I don't
think, when I look back, that I ever had any real cause for sorrow."

"Well, Miss Sadie, I hope with all my heart that you will be able to
say the same when you are the same age as your Aunt. Surely I hear her
calling!"

"I wish, Mr. Stephens, you would strike my donkey-boy with your whip
if he hits the donkey again," cried Miss Adams, jogging up on a high,
raw-Boned beast. "Hi, dragoman, Mansoor, you tell this boy that I won't
have the animals ill used, and that he ought to be ashamed of himself.
Yes, you little rascal, you ought! He's grinning at me like an
advertisement for a tooth paste. Do you think, Mr. Stephens, that if I
were to knit that black soldier a pair of woollen stockings he would be
allowed to wear them? The poor creature has bandages round his legs."

"Those are his putties, Miss Adams," said Colonel Cochrane, looking back
at her. "We have found in India that they are the best support to the
leg in marching. They are very much better than any stocking."

"Well, you don't say! They remind me mostly of a sick horse. But it's
elegant to have the soldiers with us, though Monsieur Fardet tells me
there's nothing for us to be scared about."

"That is only