Mrs. Sladen and Honor had taken to one another at once. Honor had been down (after dusk) to Mrs. Sladen’s house--been presented to Colonel Sladen, and shown the photographs of Mrs. Sladen’s little girls--Charlotte and Mabel, and had heard their last letters--a proof that she was in high favour with their mother. Honor was not accustomed to sitting with her hands before her, and promptly found occupation in various ways--she ran messages, wrote notes and orders, arranged flowers, and ventured on respectful suggestions with regard to the drawing-room, a fine apartment, expensively furnished in the worst taste imaginable--a supreme contrast to Mrs. Langrishe’s room, which was the prettiest in Shirani. People little suspected how that leisurely lady dusted it entirely herself, shook out draperies, arranged flowers, and washed the china ornaments with her own delicate hands. Her room, as she understood it, made an effective background for herself--and she spared no pains to frame Ida Langrishe in the most becoming fashion. The floor was covered with fine old prayer-rugs, the tables were strewn with curios, the walls hung with valuable water colours, and scattered at suitable intervals were inviting armchairs. Ill-natured people assured one another that the Persian rugs, carvings, and silver bowls were all so many offerings from “men.” Even so Mrs. Langrishe would have been the first to admit, “Presents to Granby and myself. Colonel Greene, a dear old thing, brought us the carpet from Peshawar; and Mr. Goldhoofe sent those silver things from Delhi. I must say that our friends never forget us.” Mrs. Langrishe, as we know, had fully determined to hand over the drawing-room to her niece, it would be such good practice for the child, and really the flowers took up an hour every morning. She would find many ways of making Lalla useful. But that young lady steadily objected to these plans, she immediately made her aunt aware that she considered herself merely ornamental. “Oh dear no! she never arranged flowers, she had no taste in that line, and besides, it would spoil her hands. _Dust_ the drawing-room! dear Aunt Ida must be joking; why, that was the bearer’s business. Get out the dessert! oh!” with a peal of ringing laughter, “she was not to be trusted. She would eat every chocolate, and all the best French sweets!” So whilst Mrs. Langrishe laboured, as usual, over her household tasks, her fair niece, with a locked door, lay upon her bed, reading a novel, tried new experiments in the hairdressing line, or wrote notes. No, no; she had not come to Shirani to be a lady-help. She had always heard that her aunt Ida was very _clever_; but, luckily, she had her wits about her also!