bungalow at the end of the evening. Amusements were scarce, and Puck was
a vigorous antidote to boredom. She always sparkled in society, and she
was too sweet-natured to snub "the boys," as she called them. The smile
of welcome was ever ready on her little, thin white face, the quick jest
on her nimble tongue.

"We mustn't be piggy just because we are happy," she said to her husband
once. "How are they to know we are having our honeymoon?" And then she
nestled close to him, whispering, "It's quite the best honeymoon any
woman ever had."

To which he could make but the one reply, pressing her to his heart and
kissing the red lips that mocked so merrily when the world was looking
on.

She had become the hub of his existence, and day by day he watched her
anxiously, grasping his happiness with a feeling that it was too great
to last.

The rains set in in earnest, and the reek of the Plains rose like an
evil miasma to the turbid heavens. The atmosphere was as the interior of
a steaming cauldron. Great toadstools spread like a loathsome disease
over the compound. Fever was rife in the camp. Mosquitoes buzzed
incessantly everywhere, and rats began to take refuge in the bungalow.
Puck was privately terrified at rats, but she smothered her terror in
her husband's presence and maintained a smiling front. They laid down
poison for the rats, who died horribly in inaccessible places, making
her wonder if they were not almost preferable alive. And then one night
she discovered a small snake coiled in a corner of her bedroom.