“First let me relieve you of your fan, and then do you relieve yourself of your perplexities,” said Robin, taking from Alicia her little hand-pankah. He swayed it to and fro with an even, measured movement, far more effectual and soothing than Alicia’s fitful, fluttering shake. “I thought that it would be so easy to make Premi happy and comfortable in my Paradise,” said Alicia (the coming of the guest had hastened the removal to the newly-built house). “I thought that the poor girl would find kindness and love so delicious after her miserable life in the fort. But in trying to make her well and happy, I find a difficulty at every step.” “You know the definition of a difficulty—‘a thing to be overcome,’” remarked Robin. “Let us look steadily at yours; perhaps it will vanish as we look.” “Of course Premi needs nourishment,” said Alicia; “but it is hard to know what to give her, especially as the hurt on her hand makes her unable to cook for herself. We all know that for invalids doctors always prescribe beef-tea, so I was determined that Premi should have it. With no small trouble I procured some beef from Chuanwál; I boiled it myself, for I could not trust Mangal to cook it—he always fails in the soup.” “Heroic Alicia!” exclaimed Robin; “did you really stand fire in such weather as this?” “Cooking certainly was no pleasure,” replied Alicia; “but I managed to do something, for I was so anxious to give my poor cousin what might help to make her well soon. I thought that she would enjoy anything prepared by my hands.” “And the result?” asked Robin smiling, for he guessed what it was likely to have been. “The poor foolish thing rejected my beef-tea almost with horror, as if I had been offering her boiled toads or snakes, or something equally disgusting. Premi clenched her teeth tightly, turned away her head, and would not touch nor even look at my soup.” “You must remember, sister dear, that poor Premi has been brought up from childhood to regard beef-eating with utter disgust. She is now free from Hindu slavery, but the chains of its superstition are hanging on her still. We must have patience, dear Alicia, and try to remove them so gently that we shall not gall the poor wrists that have worn them so long.” “Another difficulty is about dress,” said Alicia. “Premi—Miranda—came clad in little better than rags, blood-stained, too, from her terrible beating. I felt that Miranda should dress like an English lady, as she really is one by birth. I made the effort of rummaging through one of my big boxes—everything now is an effort—and selected a parcel of clothes. I thought that Miranda Macfinnis would look so nice in one of my neat-fitting costumes.” Robin playfully inquired how Miranda Macfinnis had appreciated the costume.