"Oh, yes! she's quite satisfactory. Bullies me a little now and then, you know--between ourselves; but one can't have everything in this wicked world. Well, you see, she came out to me in due time. But before there was any talk of that, another curious thing had happened. I was sitting in front of my bungalow one afternoon, very low and homesick, and tired to death after a long day's work. I was wondering if I should ever live to get back to the old country, or to see my friends again, when suddenly a man came round the corner of the road, and marched up the garden path. He was an Englishman--that was seen at the first glance; he was tall, and broad, and had a peculiar way of holding his shoulders. I stared at him, not knowing if I were awake or asleep, and when he was within a dozen yards, he raised his head to look at me, and it was my chum!--the very fellow I had been thinking of five minutes before, and despairing of ever seeing again!" "Good gracious! What did you do? What did you say?" Mr Muir smiled. "Do? Say? I called out `Halloa!' and he called out `Halloa!' and we shook hands and went into the bungalow. That seems strange to you, doesn't it? If you had been in my place, and one of your school-fellows had appeared upon the scene, you would have behaved rather differently, I imagine!" "Rather!" cried Mildred; "I can't think how you can have been so calm! If I had been there, and had seen Bertha coming, I'd have whooped like a red Indian, and rushed down, and simply smothered her with kisses. Men must be awfully cold-blooded." "I don't know about that. There are different ways of expressing one's emotion. A grip of the hand goes a long way sometimes. Well, I was fortunate, you see, for I had my chum with me once more. He had been as lonely without me as I without him, and had made up his mind to come and join me. We bought an estate between us, and now have a factory of our own. I was grieved to see these good people drinking Chinese tea this evening. I believe some wiseacres pretend that it is good for the digestion, but what is that compared with encouraging the poor planters in Ceylon? Remember, Miss Mildred, I rely upon you to drink nothing but Indian tea for the rest of your life." "Oh, I will!" promised Mildred readily. "I am quite interested in Ceylon now, because of you, and of another planter who was a friend of a great friend of mine. She told me a story about him only a few weeks ago. He wasn't so fortunate as you. He was quite alone, and he tried to grow quinine--cinchona, you call it, don't you? All the other estates suffered from blight, except his, and he was promised ever so much money for it--a fortune--but just when he was so happy, thinking of coming home, the disease came on his estate too, and everything died away before his eyes. All his work was lost, he had to begin over again, and dig up the land to plant tea instead."