"But, by the way, there did threaten to be a little fiasco," she said, recalling an incident she had half forgotten. "I really must tell you about that, Alfred. It was at the afternoon meeting the day before. I was telling the girls the secret of the treat which I thought had been well kept by those two I met on the road. It must have leaked out somewhere, for just as I was unfolding it, the door was pushed open and a striking-looking girl stepped in and sat down. Some rather sulky glances were directed towards her, I noticed, and seemed to me to ask, 'Is this new-comer to share the privilege of the faithful attenders of the class?' I thought I must at once clear the atmosphere and begin to explain that Mrs. Fellowes' invitation was limited to a number, and so exclude any hope the interloper might have had of being included. I made some remark, intended really to soften the possible disappointment, but the girl answered very haughtily and rudely, and after some words which I couldn't catch, she flounced out of the room, banging the door after her. But we must get hold of her again! I must set Mrs. Fellowes on her track, she has a magical influence over these girls. I don't think the girl liked the look of me--she assumed such a black and scowling air. Perhaps I put it rather awkwardly when I explained that she couldn't share in the treat. Yes, poor thing, I must see what can be done! Leila Baltus, that was her name! Rather pretty name, isn't it?" Mr. Rayner had been listening somewhat absently to Hester's narration as he scanned the last evening's paper. At the mention of the familiar name he started so that Hester exclaimed: "Are the mosquitoes attacking you, Alfred? I thought you boasted that they neglected you, bestowing all their attention on poor me!" He was glad that the sheets of the _Madras Mail_ were concealing his face at the moment. "Leila Baltus," he repeated slowly, after a moment's pause, in which he had succeeded in steadying his voice to a tone of unconcern. "You surely don't call that a pretty name! Shows what a griffin you are! Why, it's one of those hateful half-caste names--as common as mud, and as ugly," he added, though he was aware that he only knew one family of the name. Presently he threw the newspaper to the ground with an angry swish, and jumping up confronted Hester, saying, in a voice trembling with the passion engendered by fear: "I'll tell you what it is, Hester! I'll not have you crawled upon by those vile half-castes at every turn--dangerous liars and thieves, every one of them! You must really seek your pleasure elsewhere than with such low associates. In fact, the way you're going on is quite compromising to me. Here am I struggling for an assured position at the bar, while you are haunting the East-Indian dens of Vepery. It isn't loyal of you! You shan't ruin me by such ongoings--that's the long and the short of it!"