It seemed to her that Helen Perowne, whom she had promised their old instructresses to befriend and aid, was the principal object of attraction to all. She felt no jealousy on this account, only a curious sense of trouble. Her affection for Helen was as great as ever, but always there seemed to be a gathering cloud of trouble right ahead, and in an undefined way this seemed to gather and threaten them both. Sometimes her eyes fell upon little Mrs Bolter, who appeared far from enjoying the day, but to be ready at any moment to go in quest of the doctor, who kept leaving his seat to chat with someone at another part. There was always a smile for Grey though, whenever Mrs Bolter caught her eye, and the exchange of glances seemed to comfort the little lady for the time. The next minute Grey would see that the Rajah was looking in Helen's direction, and she trembled at the idea of further trouble arising; but the Malay's thoughts were hidden beneath a set smile, which did duty on all occasions now, and was bestowed upon Helen, upon the Princess, Mrs Bolter, even upon the watcher in turn. Then, as she saw how impressive were Captain Hilton's attentions, Grey sighed softly, and in remembrance of what had been said at Mayleyfield, she told herself that perhaps the best thing that could happen to Helen would be for her to become the young officer's wife. Just then Chumbley turned to her, and as if their conversation had had no pause-- "Let me add this," he continued, "Hilton is one of the best fellows that ever breathed, only he has gone a little wild over this affair." "Pray say no more, Mr Chumbley," pleaded Grey. "Why not?" said the other, quietly. "I thought we were to be friends, Miss Stuart. Do you know I'm going to risk your displeasure by saying a word on my friend's behalf?" Grey tried to speak--to recover her usual calm self-possession, but her words would not come. "This is all nonsense, you know," continued Chumbley, "and I don't know that I blame Hilton much. It's only natural, you know, and the poor fellow's only like everyone else. They all get caught by the beauty just the same as I was. You're not a man, you know, so you can't understand it. Now, for instance, take me. I'm a great big fellow--a sort of a small giant in my way--strong as a horse. I could take that Rajah up by his neck and one leg, and pitch him out of window; but when Helen Perowne came here, and gave me one of her looks, I was done, and she led me about just as she pleased. Ah! there's a very comic side to it all." "But you soon broke your silken string, Mr Chumbley," said Grey, trying to speak in his own bantering tone. "Not really," he said confidentially. "The fact is, she broke it. I couldn't have got away if I had not seen that she was only playing with me. It was she who broke it by beginning to lead others on. I say, Miss Stuart, what awful old women your schoolmistresses must have been!"