ell, at least, old Schute is hearty enough! There is no necessity to
pity him; and, really, don't you know, he is hardly the right sort of
friend for you. Do you know who he is? The proprietor of one of the
big drapers' shops in Calcutta."

"It was a very good shop," said Peggy reflectively. "They were most
obliging in sending patterns. Two of the assistants were in a class
mother held for English girls, and they said he was so kind and
considerate, and had even paid to send some of them to the hill, after
they had been ill. I've a great respect for Mr Schute."

"Quite so; but that's not exactly a reason why you should play halma
with him. I've a respect for him also, if what you say is true, but he
is not in our class, as he himself would acknowledge, and it's not the
thing for you to be seen talking to him. There are certain restrictions
which we must all observe."

"Excuse me--I don't observe them. I am Mariquita Saville. Nothing that
I can do can alter that fact, or take from me the position to which I
was born," replied Peggy, with that air of overweening pride in her
belongings which had a distinctly humorous aspect in the eyes of her
companion, for though a county name and some well-won decorations are,
no doubt, things to be valued, nothing short of a pedigree traced direct
from the Flood itself would have justified the ineffable assurance of
her manner.

He was not rash enough, however, to put such a reflection into words, so
he stood in silence until once again the girl turned to leave him, when
he found his tongue quickly enough.

"You are really going then?"

"Certainly I'm going!"

"You'll tire yourself out with those children, and get a headache into
the bargain in the stuffy cabins."

"I think it's extremely probable."

"Then why will you be obstinate, and go in spite of all I can, say?"

"Shall I tell you why?" Peggy raised her head and stared at him with
brilliant eyes. "I must go and help these poor people because _you_--
and others like you--refuse to do it! I can't bear to see them
neglected, but I should be delighted to share the work with some one
else. Major Darcy, will you do me a favour? Mr Schute is very lonely;
no one speaks to him, and his eyes are so weak that he can't amuse
himself by reading. He is a very interesting old man, and I assure you
his `h's' are above reproach. Will you have a game of halma with him
this afternoon instead of me, and so set me free fr