Mrs. Goldring, the Judge's wife at Puranapore, had finished her afternoon nap and was now preparing for the leading event of the day, the evening game at tennis, which on this occasion was to be held at Mrs. Samptor's, the wife of the Superintendent of the District Jail. She was therefore not a little surprised to see that lady descending from her pony-carriage at her own door when she was just about to drive to the Samptor's compound. Matters of interest in the little Mofussil society were narrow in their range, but they were none the less intense.

Mrs. Goldring snatched her last hatpin hurriedly from the deferential brown fingers of her waiting ayah.

"What can the woman want, Jane?" she said irritably, addressing her weary-looking daughter, who had just appeared on the threshold of the dressing-room. "I told her she couldn't have my silver teapot again. She almost burnt a hole in it last time, 'putting it on a lamp,' so she said! If I were at home I should say it had squatted on the kitchen range for a considerable time! I do hate that system of borrowing so much in vogue here! I suppose I must go and see what she wants. Now, Jane," she added, after a disapproving survey of her daughter, "I beg you will make yourself presentable for once. It isn't often your father gives me a piece of news, but he did tell me that the new Assistant-Collector was expected to-day. He may turn up for tennis if the Collector isn't too careless and indifferent to think of asking him to come. What a pity our meeting happens to be at Mrs. Samptor's. He might get a better impression of the station had it been elsewhere."

Jane stood unresponsive in the doorway. Her eyelids moved slightly as she listened to her mother's remarks, but she made no reply, sullenly watching her mother's portly figure clad in rustling silks as she passed downstairs.

Mrs. Goldring greeted her visitor with an interrogative "Well?" which Mrs. Samptor was keenly conscious of being more direct than polite, but she felt that the item of news which she was bursting to tell was so important that she could afford to echo "Well!" in a key which foretold possibilities.

"You will be surprised to see me here, Mrs. Goldring, instead of meeting me on my own lawn, but I saw I had a clear half-hour and thought it my duty to share my news with you. It may avoid complications later, as you will understand when you hear it."

The Judge's wife inwardly wished that her neighbour would not always be so long in coming to the point, but felt on the whole relieved that this time she did not appear in her frequent rÔle of a borrower.

"Murder will out, as I often say to Samptor—very appropriate to a jailer, isn't it now? Well, the fact is I've had a letter from an acquaintance who has just got back to Madras by the Bokhara. Mr. Mark Cheveril, our new Assistant-Collector, you know, was a fellow-passenger. Perfectly charming she says he is, but—oh dear, what do you think? Mrs. Pate had it from a man on board, who had it from Cheveril himself. He's a half-caste! Though one would never guess it from his appearance, she says, and the astonishing thing is that he isn't the least ashamed of the fact; but Mrs. Pate confesses he never alluded to the flaw in her hearing. Now, isn't this a great shock?"

Mrs. Samptor glanced keenly at her neighbour, divining that the coming of an eligible young man must have raised a flutter of hope in her maternal heart.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Samptor," said that lady, after a moment's pause. "We shan't have the half-caste—as you call him—among us long. The Collector will soon shake him off."

"That's the very plank I cling to as might a drowning man, but Samptor's not so sure. One can never reckon on what Mr. Worsley may do! But I still cling to the hope. Look how he got rid of young Printer! There are ways and means of doing it even in the Service, though what ailed him at Printer I never could make out—most affable, I thought him. And though the Collector never said a word against him to anybody as far as I know, I felt in my bones he couldn't abide the man, and sure enough he was transferred. And I hear there were others before we came that he couldn't hit it off with. A man of strong prejudices and weak will, the doctor says he is—in confidence, of course. But he's a bit of a 'griffin' yet is Dr. Campbell, though he's a dear, and so is his wife. However, this news doesn't matter to me personally," continued the visitor, rolling her eyes on Mrs. Goldring, who was not altogether able to conceal her annoyance, much as she desired to do so. "You see I haven't any marriageable daughter with seasons passing over her head! I declare, one sometimes is made thankful for what is often foolishly regarded as a privation," she added with a sigh.

"Now, Mrs. Goldring, what I've come to say is," she continued after a pause, bending forward in her chair, "that the Collector should be told this news at once. What does he ever hear—out in camp so much—and when at home lounging in his long chair or shooting in the paddy fields? And who is the proper person to do it but yourself—the Judge's wife—the chief lady of the station? Yes, Mrs. Goldring, we must hand over the disagreeables of your position as well as its amenities! You will have your opportunity made for you, for the Collector is actually coming to us this afternoon—told Samptor so."

Again she felt that she had scored, for the Collector was generally rather conspicuous by his absence from the social functions of the little society.

"But what am I thinking of? I should be in my place on my lawn receiving my guests instead of chattering here, and there is my humble chariot stopping the way of your landau which I see appearing"; and Mrs. Samptor, with an "au revoir," nimbly skipped away—many hot weathers, which had encumbered Mrs. Goldring with much superfluous flesh, having had the effect of robbing the little lady of all superfluity in that direction, leaving her lean and brown-complexioned, and, though "country-born," British to the core in all her prejudices.

Mrs. Goldring's heavy features were marked by an air of worry as she watched her visitor drive off. How she hated that little woman with her sharp tongue and her divining eyes! And it was only when it suited her purpose that she would acknowledge her precedence as the Judge's wife, though certainly there was something in the suggestion that she was the proper person to enlighten the Collector concerning this misfortune. But when had she ever confided to Mrs. Samptor that she reckoned on this new-comer as a possible fish for her matrimonial bait? Truly she might save herself that trouble! The girl was too trying for the accomplishment of any such design, she thought, glancing with irritation at her daughter who came slowly into the room.

She was a pale girl, blanched by two hot weathers on the plains; there were dark lines under her dull blue eyes, and her fair hair, which had been her one beauty at home, looked limp and lustreless as it escaped in untidy strands from her faded tulle hat. Her dress also had a washed-out, crumpled appearance. Yet this girl had been the pride of loving hearts at home. Notwithstanding their multifarious duties as heads of a select boarding school for young ladies, her father's sisters had mothered her so tenderly that her heart was still tenaciously with them and their daily round. The artificial life in India was hateful to her, yet it held one bright spot. The face, that had worn such a sullen air, lit up as she heard the sound of wheels.

"Here comes daddy!" she cried, with a note of glee in her voice as she sprang out to the verandah.

The Judge, who had descended from his carriage, had not by any means the impressive appearance one is wont to attach to legal dignitaries at home. He was a small, meek-looking, fair man, with mild, blinking blue eyes, and a chronically tired expression. Though still in the prime of life, only his fair hair, unmixed with grey, saved him from giving the impression of being quite an old man. A struggling youth and the over-pressure of examinations, even more than the ravages of the climate, had thus prematurely aged him. But the Service had no better or more devoted member than James Goldring. And as for his loving heart, none knew it better than his daughter Jane, who was now welcoming him.

"Look here, little Jane, why send that big landau to the Kutchery for me? You know I prefer my little bandy."

"Of course, I know, daddy, but mother said the landau was to fetch you this afternoon."

"I did, James," said Mrs. Goldring, coming forward. "You will persist in coming straight from the Kutchery to tennis in that hideous little band-box of yours and stepping out of it like a Jack-in-the-box. You've no regard for appearances—it doesn't do! And you, Jane, are just the same, you encourage your father—"

"She does," returned the Judge, with a smile and a loving glint in his blue eyes as they rested on his daughter. "Well, I suppose I must go and make myself as gay and festive as you are," he added, looking admiringly at Jane's faded toilette without the least consciousness of its defects.

"First your cup of tea, daddy," said Jane, bounding off and returning with a special brew in a lovely SÈvres cup and saucer which had been her gift to him.

"A very bad habit you're getting your father into giving him tea before he goes out. And Mrs. Samptor looks furious when he declines her cakes—not that I specially desire to save her feelings," added Mrs. Goldring, recalling the sting of the recent interview.

"Ah, but I do," said the Judge. "So not even a single biscuit with my tea, Jane, that I may do full justice to Mrs. Samptor's cakes, which are excellent, and made by her own tiny fingers."

"Oh, don't you be paying her any compliments. She's quite conceited enough already. I've had her here not five minutes ago with no end of tittle-tattle—quite upset me!"

"No end of tittle-tattle in Puranapore! She must have a lively imagination! I'm sure I've heard nothing exciting at the Kutchery to-day."

"I shall tell you her news afterwards," said Mrs. Goldring, pursing up her lips as she rose from her chair. "We'd better not keep the horses waiting longer. I hear the Collector is to be there. I want a word with him if possible."

"By the way, I did hear a bit of news to-day after all. The new Assistant has arrived! I shouldn't wonder if Worsley brings him round to the Samptors'."

"That I should think very unlikely from what I've heard this afternoon, knowing the Collector as I do," returned Mrs. Goldring with an emphatic air. "Come, Jane,—how you do loll about! Why did you not put on that new frock I took such trouble to order for you instead of that blue rag your aunts sent?"

"I was just thinking what a pretty blue it was, and how well it matches Jeannie's 'germander' eyes," said the Judge with a smile, patting his daughter on the shoulder as she followed her mother to the carriage.