e, and it was to her that Scott seemed to
speak.

'Good for the Pauper Province!' said William, her chin in her hand,
as she leaned forward among the wine-glasses. Her cheeks had fallen
in, and the scar on her forehead was more prominent than ever, but
the well-turned neck rose roundly as a column from the ruffle of the
blouse which was the accepted evening-dress in camp.

'It was awfully absurd at times,' said Scott. 'You see I didn't know
much about milking or babies. They'll chaff my head off, if the tale
goes north.'

'Let 'em,' said William, haughtily. 'We've all done coolie-work
since we came. I know Jack has.' This was to Hawkins's address, and
the big man smiled blandly.

'Your brother's a highly efficient officer, William,' said he, and
I've done him the honour of treating him as he deserves. Remember, I
write the confidential reports.'

'Then you must say that William's worth her weight in gold,' said
Mrs. Jim. 'I don't know what we should have done without her. She has
been everything to us.' She dropped her hand upon William's, which
was rough with much handling of reins, and William patted it softly.
Jim beamed on the company. Things were going well with his world.
Three of his more grossly incompetent men had died, and their places
had been filled by their betters. Every day brought the rains nearer.
They had put out the famine in five of the Eight Districts, and,
after all, the death-rate had not been too heavy--things considered.
He looked Scott over carefully, as an ogre looks over a man, and
rejoiced in his thews and iron-hard condition.

'He's just the least bit in the world tucked up,' said Jim to
himself, 'but he can do two men's work yet.' Then he was aware that
Mrs. Jim was telegraphing to him, and according to the domestic code
the message ran: 'A clear case. Look at them!'

He looked and listened. All that William was saying was: 'What can
you expect of a country where they call a _bhistee_ [a water-carrier]
a _tunni-cutch?_' and all that Scott answered was: 'I shall be
precious glad to get back to the Club. Save me a dance at the
Christmas ball, won't you?'

'It's a far cry from here to the Lawrence Hall,' said Jim. 'Better
turn in early, Scott. It's paddy-carts to-morrow; you'll begin
loading at five.'

'Aren't you going to give Mr. Scott one day's rest?'

'Wish I could, Lizzie. 'Fraid I can't. As long as he can stand up we
must use him.'

'Well, I've had one Europe evening, at