s result were ridiculously small.

"I have done more work in a week, and had nothing to show for it at
last," said I, "than you have seemed to do in all this voyage."

"Poor sister! don't you wish you were a man?"

"Certainly, all women do who have any sense. I hold with that ancient
Father of the Church who maintained that all women are changed into men
on the judgment-day. The council said it was heresy, but that don't
alter my faith."

"I shouldn't like you half as well if you had been born a boy," said
Frank.

"But I should like myself vastly better," said I, clinging to the last
word.

Bombay is a city by itself: there is none like it on earth, whatever
there may be in the heaven above or in the waters under it. From Sir
Jamsetjee Jeejeebhoy's hospital for sick animals to the Olympian conceit
of the English residents, there are infinite variations of people and
things that I am persuaded can be matched nowhere else. I felt myself
living in a series of pictures, a sort of supernumerary in a theatre,
where they changed the play every night.

One of the first who boarded our ship was Mr. Rayne, an old friend of
Frank's. He insisted on our going to his house for a few days in a
warm-hearted way that was irresistible.

"Are you quite sure you want _me_?" I said dubiously. "Young married
people make a kind of heaven for themselves, and do not want old maids
looking over the wall."

"But you _must_ go with us," said Frank, man-like, never seeing anything
but the uppermost surface of a question.

"Not at all. I'm quite strong-minded enough to stay on board ship; or,
if that would not do in this heathen place, the missionaries are always
ready to entertain strangers. A week in the missionhouse would make me
for ever a shining light in the sewing circle at home.

"A woman of so many resources would be welcome anywhere. For my part, an
old maid is a perfect Godsend. The genus is unknown here, and the loss
to society immense," said Mr. Rayne.

"But what shall I do when Mrs. Rayne and my sister-in-law are comparing
notes about the perfections of their husbands?"

"Walk on the verandah with me and convert me to woman suffrage."

Mr. Rayne had his barouche waiting on shore, and drove us first to the
bandstand, where, in the coolness of sunset, all the Bombay world meet
to see and to be seen. When the band paused, people drove slowly round
the circle, seeking acquaintance. Among them one equipage was perfect--a
s