"And pray, what can I do with Mrs. Waldershare?" she inquired, stuffing the note into her saddle pocket. "Oh, she is bound to have made her own plans. By Jove, here she comes in one of the hotel victorias." * * * * * After hastily welcoming her guest, Mrs. Gascoigne hurried away to make her arrangements for Lola, her maid, and her belongings, leaving the two old playfellows _tête-à-tête_ in the verandah. Mrs. Waldershare was suitably dressed in a cool white cambric, and a shady hat; a great bunch of heliotrope was stuck in her belt. Her face was pathetically pale, and her dark eyes were tragic, as she turned to her host and said, with a quick, dramatic gesture: "Oh, it is too bad of me to take you by storm in this way, but I am such a miserable coward; though if anything did happen to me, there is no one to care now," and her voice sank. "It is such a misfortune that Edgar is on the march, and here I am, left adrift." "You must not talk like this, Lola," interrupted Philip. "I am glad you came to us,—you know you are welcome here. Don't trouble your head, but make yourself at home. Angel will be delighted to have you. We were only saying a few minutes ago that she must have a companion when I go away." "Oh," with a little gasp, "when are you going?" "In a day or two, on duty into Garhwal, and Angel will be all by herself, at any rate, until she goes to the hills." * * * * * An hour later, Mrs. Waldershare, having seen her dresses unpacked, her odds and ends arranged, and written off half-a-dozen notes—announcing her change of address—dismissed Tile, her maid, and threw herself down on a lounge with a sigh of inexpressible satisfaction. Yes, she had managed it capitally, taken the position at a rush—"now established here," and she glanced round the comfortable bedroom; "here" she determined to remain. "_J'y suis et j'y reste_," she murmured to herself with a smile. What had become of the pale, distraught, excited, and apologetic Lola? Philip was perfectly right when he declared that Lola was certain to have made her plans, but if he had been an accomplished thought-reader, and been able to fathom them, his surprise would have been unbounded. Mrs. Waldershare's small supply of funds was ebbing rapidly; to live in a suitable style, which includes a maid, a carriage, and constant little dinners, costs a considerable sum even in India; and at hotels, of course, it is a matter of ready money. The last week's bill had proved a disagreeable surprise; the manager had thrown out hints respecting late parties, and declared that other residents had complained of loud talking, and carriage wheels, at unusual hours.