Part 2 (1/2)

'Oh! it isn't that,' replied the first voice, 'I mean that I couldn't take a child to Cawnpore. I should always be thinking of the well!'

_Always thinking of the well!_

The words brought home to Lesley Drummond in an instant--a never-to-be-forgotten instant--that _something_ which so often chills the golden glory of the Eastern suns.h.i.+ne, that vision of the sentinel of memory which, for both races, bars the door of reconciliation that might otherwise stand open for comrades.h.i.+p.

She had read books on that past tragedy, she had told herself that it _was_ past, that it should be forgotten; and now--

'Drink your tea sharp!' said Nevill Lloyd with kindly familiarity, 'or you'll be getting ague. That's the worst of this beastly hole. It's always in extremes. Hot as blazes one moment, chill as charity----' He paused, for the iron hand beneath the parti-coloured velvet and brocade glove of India was resolved to have the girl in its grip at once, and a rattling thud, followed by a dull reverberation, rose from the near distance, making more than one in the chattering crowd pause also, until the sound came again, when the pause ended cheerfully in fresh chatter.

'It's a funeral,' explained Nevill Lloyd in answer to Lesley's look.

'The cemetery is close to the course, and enteric is shocking bad in barracks just now. Young Summers of ours is down with it, too. Awful ill, poor chap--couldn't be worse, I'm afraid.'

A lady, pa.s.sing, turned to listen, and, as she went on, said to her companion in a whisper, 'I do hope they won't have to put off the ball to-night--I've got such a jolly new dress from Paris for it.'

Another vision came to Lesley, the vision of a dead lad and a Paris dress.

'Come for a turn--you're positively s.h.i.+vering,' said Captain Lloyd concernedly.

They had barely escaped from the crush, however, when Sir George Arbuthnot appeared in the important fuss of new authority. A cipher telegram had come from England, he must return to Government House at once, if Captain Lloyd would kindly order the carriage.

'It's an orful nuisance, Miss Dwummond,' commented Jerry, tucking his hand into hers after his fas.h.i.+on with every one he liked, 'for dad and I was going to put five whole wupees on the blackboard thing for the Cup wace. And now he can't, of course. But I can. Can't I, dad?' he added, artfully appealing to a weak point in his parent, 'for you pwomised, didn't you?'

Now the keeping of promises had always been a prop to Sir George's somewhat irresolute mind, so he promptly gave Jerry the five rupees, and, with a suggestion that Miss Drummond would help him to get the ticket, bustled off, leaving the latter no time for remonstrance.

She stood looking resentfully at the pieces of silver which were to betray her principles, then said with chill dignity--

'We had better take the ticket at once, I suppose, if it has got to be taken. Come, Gerald!'

But Jerry's face was the face of Jerry when he forgot his hymn, and his hands, holding the five rupees, went behind his back to match his consciousness of error.

'I'm afwaid I don't know, please,' he began.

'Don't know what? Speak up, don't be stupid!'

The flaming flag which always heralded the child's confessions of ignorance flew to his face; but, after his habit, he looked his inquisitor full in the eyes.

'What, please, a w.a.n.kest outsider is.'

Lesley hid her smile deftly; she had ample practice in the art with her pupil. 'And _I_ don't know which is the rankest outsider, so we must take it on chance,' she replied tartly.

The little laddie's face fell, but he stood firm. 'Please, I'd _wather_ take it on the--the other; for Mr. Waymond knows lots about betting and you don't know nothing.'

'I'm glad I don't!' she retorted, feeling quite nettled, for Jerry's obstinate adherence to his ideal was not to be set aside with a high hand. 'And what is more, I don't wish to; so if you're not satisfied, we needn't take the ticket at all!' So far she got almost spitefully, then something smote the womanhood and motherhood in her. 'Or,' she went on, 'suppose we take one on Kingscraft--every one says he is sure to win.'

The boy's face was a study of pitying contempt. 'Kingscwaft!' he echoed. 'Why, he's the favourite, and I'm not going to foller a lead--_I_'m going to collar the lot!'

A sudden mist came to the girl's eyes; and through it she seemed to see the st.u.r.dy little soul enshrined in the st.u.r.dy little body. She held out her hand and said simply, 'Come, there's Mr. Raymond--he'll know.'

'The rankest outsider?' echoed Jack Raymond quite gravely. 'Let's have a look at the card, Jerry.' Then, as he stooped over the child, he added, 'Shall I read out the names, or can you?'