There were several ladies, all young and pretty and beautifully dressed, and three strange men, including Cousin Jim and his soldier friend from India. Cousin Jim had bright, twinkling eyes, and looked full of life and spirit; but his friend's brown face was lined and haggard, and his smile was half-hearted, as if his thoughts were not in the present. Pixie noticed, however, that it was to his side that little Inda crept for support, and that his disengaged hand softly stroked the child's head from time to time, as if he found comfort in her presence. Such good friends did they appear that after the meal was finished she refused to be separated from him, and implored his company in the gipsy tent in the paddock. Mrs Wallace protested, but the young fellow declared that he enjoyed being victimised, and walked off with the schoolroom party with the utmost good humour. "But I can't speak French, Viva," he explained--"not well enough to be able to converse with Mademoiselle, at least! You must explain to her that I am only a stupid Englishman, and ask her to excuse me. You can translate that for me, I suppose?" "She's not French either; she's only pitending. She's only English the same as me," protested Viva sturdily; and Pixie nodded at him with complacent smiles. "But I've lived abroad; so I speak it to them for their good. You've been away too, haven't you? I hope you enjoyed yourself?" He smiled, but it was rather a sad little smile, despite its amusement. "I went for work, you know, not pleasure. We accomplished what there was to do, which was satisfactory; but I can't honestly say I enjoyed it." "I hate work!" agreed Pixie sympathetically. "We all do; it's in the family. `Never do to-day what you can put off till to-morrow,' my brother used to tell me, for you never know what may happen, and you may get out of it altogether if you wait. But if we are obliged to do it, we pretend we like it, for it's so dull to be unhappy. And if it was horrid abroad, it makes it all the nicer to come back, doesn't it?" "Sometimes," he said shortly. They had reached the gipsy encampment by this time, and were peremptorily commanded to sit down on a bench pending certain important preparations under the wheel-barrow; so he took possession of one corner, and Pixie took the other and stared at him with unabashed scrutiny. He was unhappy, she decided, and that was enough to enlist her whole-hearted sympathy; but besides being unhappy, he was very good to look upon, with his bronzed skin, well-cut features, and soldierly bearing. She admired him immensely; and the admiration was mutual, though of a different nature.