Mrs. Rouat was a great contrast to her lean, brown-skinned sister-in-law. She was almost blonde in colouring, her cheeks were ruddy, and her suffused watery eyes distinctly blue; while her treble chin, stout figure, and condition of well-to-do preservation suggested that she belonged to one of the lower orders of the British race rather than to one who had any admixture of Oriental blood. Being considerably upset by her three days at sea, Mrs. Rouat at first was quite satisfied to recline in a long bamboo chair while she listened to her sister-in-law's narrations concerning the hard times they had undergone, or was entertained by her niece playing a jingling tune on the wheezy old piano. Presently, however, Aunt Tilly got tired of the four chunam walls of the sitting-room, though they had been washed gleaming white for her benefit. She decided that she might even forego in some measure the benefit of the punkah which was swung from the centre of the high ceiling, and shift her quarters to the window where she could entertain herself by watching the passers-by, which she perceived was the chief recreation of her niece. Being installed there one afternoon she happened to catch sight of one with whose appearance she had once been familiar. In spite of the flight of years which had whitened his head and bent his shoulders, she at once recognised him. "Well now, Leila, if thatt ain't David Morpeth--him as used to live in the best Eurasian quarter in Calcutta in my back days!" "Oh, he's no rare sight," returned Leila contemptuously. "You can see him passing any day of the week. He goes in for meetings and clubs--for the good of us Vepery folk, if you please! I give him, and the likes of him, a wide berth." "And for whatt do you do thatt?" asked Aunt Tilly, in a disapproving voice. "Oh, they'd like to catch me and tie me to a mission stool. But I'm a match for the likes of them!"