There was a loud rattling and calling at the door, which she opened, to discover (as she half expected), Pussy, in a tattered pink dressing-jacket and bare feet, bringing her her morning Chotah Hazri. Here was an end to silence and self-communion; she must rouse herself, summon her self-command and confront her fate. Meanwhile a cup of fragrant Indian tea, some slices of curious grey bazaar bread and peculiarly white butter seemed delicious fare to a girl, who had scarcely tasted food for four-and-twenty hours. The long hours of the morning were devoted by Verona to unpacking her boxes and distributing gifts, such as books, fans, little ornaments and knick-knacks; her sisters and Nicky were enchanted with their presents; her mother only, accepted her share with a doubtful and ungracious air, nor did she attempt to disguise her opinion that she regarded such outlay as a sinful waste of money. In the afternoon, when tiffin was over, it was the custom of the entire family to repair to their several lairs in order to enjoy a long siesta; and Verona, thus released, now set about unpacking her own personal effects; but Pussy, for once, dispensed with her nap and clung to her sister with an offer of her society and assistance; it was impossible for her to comprehend that any one could endure to be alone. She artlessly believed that Verona was as anxious for her company as she was to accord it. Her co-operation being politely declined, instead of taking her departure--as hoped for--Pussy merely kicked off her shoes and flung herself at full length on the bed, where she lay in an attitude of voluptuous ease, lazily contemplating her sister's exertions. "My, my, my! how neat you are!" she exclaimed in admiration, as she watched her busy relative emptying boxes and putting away linen, "and how quick; the ayah would have taken hours! What heaps of stockings, petticoats, and books--none of us read, except father and Dom--you see, we've not had much schooling. Nicky is as ignorant as a coolie boy; only for that, he would get into the works. I am just as bad. Dominga is our clever one; she writes a good hand, and she sings splendidly." "Oh, does she?" said Verona; "where was she taught?" "She learnt at the school; we were both at school in Nani Tal. They say her voice is extraordinary, you can hear it half a koss away. She plays tennis and badminton better than any girl in Manora. Mother is so proud of her! Mother is clever too, especially at writing and figures; she loves accounts. Yes, mother loves two things, Dominga and money! Father loves silence and smoking. Nani loves coffee and news." "And Pussy?" looking up with a smile. "Loves you, Verona." "Thank you, dear." "And also someone, oh, so much! but I cannot tell you _yet_; it is a secret," and Pussy turned her face away and hid her blushes in the pillow. However, her blushes and emotion were of transitory duration, for in a few seconds her sprightly voice was saying: