“Only a month to build a house in, and only one thousand rupees [less than a hundred pounds] with which to pay for bricks, mortar, and work! It’s well that the place is a small one; but big or small it won’t be ready for Harold’s bride. It’s hard on a delicately-nurtured young lady to be brought to such a bungalow as ours—two bed-rooms, one sitting-room, and a place for lumber, with three missionaries to share with her the limited accommodation. Besides, Alicia has no end of luggage. I cannot imagine where we shall stow it away. I suppose that Harold was right in marrying so soon—dear old fellow, he’s always right—but I cannot help wishing that Colonel Graham had not been starting for England till April, so that his daughter’s wedding could have been delayed till we had some corner to put her up in.” Robin paused, wiped his heated brow, and looked up at the tiny house on which he had expended a great deal of personal labour, as well as that of urging on the coolies and bricklayers, who, whenever his back was turned, would sit down for a smoke. Robin had with his own hands made all the doors, inserting in each the four panes of glass which made it serve as a window. Robin had constructed the wooden eye-lids, as he called them, to keep off the sun from the roshandáns (upper windows), which to a novice standing outside might give the false impression that the bungalow had an upper story. Robin had trampled down into something like solidity the layer of mud on the roof, which was intended to moderate heat and keep out rain. Tiles and slates were things unknown at Talwandi. The youth was a little proud of his work, yet, as he looked up at the uncompleted dwelling, an expression of doubt, almost of dissatisfaction, came over Robin’s bright young face. “Bricks and mud have no natural affinity to beauty,” he said, “not even to picturesqueness. As for comfort, even if we could get the veranda up and the mats down, the place would be too damp to be lived in. Poor Alicia must be content to squeeze herself into our nutshell—father and I in one room, she in the other, whilst the one sitting-room, backed, or rather fronted, by the veranda, must serve as drawing-room, dining-room, study, reception and school room, and whatever else be required. Well, happily we are not likely to quarrel any more than do double kernels in one nut.” Robin glanced down the dusty road, bordered with ragged cactus, which led to the small native town of Talwandi, which was the head-quarters of this branch of the mission. A town it was with some dignity of its own, as it boasted not only two little mosques with domes, and a big Hindu temple with stumpy spire, but one house of some height and pretensions, domineering over some hundreds of low houses built of mud.