Mrs. Carmichael, the people were _dreadful_. You know, I am not
snobbish--indeed I must confess to quite democratic tendencies, which
my family always greatly deplores--but I really couldn't stand the
people. I had to go back to England with Beatrice. The place was filled
with subordinate railway officials. Don't you hate subordinates, dear
Mrs. Carmichael?"

Mrs. Carmichael stared, during which process her eyes happened to fall
on Beatrice Cary's half-averted face. She was surprised to find that
the somewhat thin lips were smiling--though not agreeably.

"I really don't know what you mean by 'subordinates,'" Mrs. Carmichael
said, in her uncompromising way. "Most people are subordinates at some
time or other. My husband was a lieutenant once. I don't remember
objecting to him. At any rate," she continued hastily, as though to cut
the conversation short, "I hope you will like the people here."

"I'm sure I shall. A military circle is always so delightful. That is what
I said to Beatrice when I felt that I must revisit the scene of my girlish
days. 'We must go somewhere where there is military.' Of course, we might
have gone to Simla--I have influential friends there, you know--but I
wanted my girl to see a real bit of genuine India, and Simla is _so_
modern. Really a great pity, I think. I am so passionately fond of color
and picturesqueness--comfort is nothing to me. As my husband used to say,
'Oh, Mary, you are always putting your artistic feelings before material
necessities.' Poor fellow, he used to miss his creature comforts
sometimes, I fear."

Her laugh, painfully resembling a giggle, interrupted her own garrulity,
which was finally put to an end by a fresh arrival. A slight,