“All right. How much have I to pay?” asked young Hartley, drawing from his pocket his bag of rupees. The munshi surveyed the bag, perhaps making a calculation as to its probable contents, then named a sum that was an exorbitant charge for so short a journey. To pay it would more than drain Harold’s bag. The missionary remonstrated, but in vain. The munshi knew that the travellers were in his power. They must pay what he chose to demand, or no dák-gári should start. “I shall inform the Government official of the extortion,” began Harold; but he was not allowed to conclude the sentence. “No Government dák—private affair,” said the munshi, showing a row of white teeth in a smile of triumph. “If Sahib no like pay, Sahib try find ekká.” Harold’s first thought was, “So I will;” but when he glanced again at his simply but elegantly dressed wife, he could not bear the idea of her having to climb up into a vehicle so rude, to be jolted over twenty miles of rough road, seated Oriental fashion, and holding the ropes at the side to prevent herself from being jerked out on the road. No, no; Harold would not take his bride home in an ekká. “Harold, what is all this delay and discussion about?” asked Alicia, who, weary of waiting, had sauntered up to the side of her husband. “This fellow is making an unreasonable demand: he asks for more than I have with me,” said Harold, looking slightly annoyed. “Oh, is that all? I’ll be your banker,” cried Alicia. “Just help me to open my box, and I’ll get out the money.” In a few minutes Alicia’s pretty purse was in the hand of her husband. The lady was rather amused at the idea of lending to Harold; but he was by no means pleased at having to borrow from his bride. The money was paid, the amount registered in the munshi’s greasy book, and in due time the gári appeared. “Is it not like an old bathing-machine?” said Alicia. “It looks hardly as luxurious as one would expect from the cost of its hire.” A dák-gári is by no means luxurious, especially on a rough country road. It has neither springs nor windows, and cushions must be improvised from the rugs which travellers carry with them. However, Alicia was perfectly satisfied. “Mission Mem Sahibas must not care for luxury,” thought she. When nearly half the journey had been accomplished, the travellers passed a heavily-laden bullock-cart, slowly jolting on its way. “There, see! there’s our piano and our big cases!” exclaimed Alicia. “I thought that we should find them all ready unpacked on our arrival at home. We sent on the luggage ages ago.” “There was probably some hitch at the station,” said Harold; “and bullocks travel very slowly indeed. But the cart will be in before morning; we shall arrive some hours before it.”