Every one was too panic-stricken to think of a little girl no one was
fond of. When people had the cholera it seemed that they remembered
nothing but themselves. But if every one had got well again, surely some
one would remember and come to look for her.

But no one came, and as she lay waiting the house seemed to grow more
and more silent. She heard something rustling on the matting and when
she looked down she saw a little snake gliding along and watching her
with eyes like jewels. She was not frightened, because he was a harmless
little thing who would not hurt her and he seemed in a hurry to get out
of the room. He slipped under the door as she watched him.

"How queer and quiet it is," she said. "It sounds as if there was no one
in the bungalow but me and the snake."

Almost the next minute she heard footsteps in the compound, and then on
the veranda. They were men's footsteps, and the men entered the bungalow
and talked in low voices. No one went to meet or speak to them and they
seemed to open doors and look into rooms.

"What desolation!" she heard one voice say. "That pretty, pretty woman!
I suppose the child, too. I heard there was a child, though no one ever
saw her."

Mary was standing in the middle of the nursery when they opened the door
a few minutes later. She looked an ugly, cross little thing and was
frowning because she was beginning to be hungry and feel disgracefully
neglected. The first man who came in was a large officer she had once
seen talking to her father. He looked tired and troubled, but when he
saw her he was so startled that he almost jumped back.