Lady Haigh and Penelope, who had not the cares of government upon their shoulders, were much more free to enjoy themselves. They made advances to the shy women and children of these sequestered hamlets, who fled in terror from the white ladies, never having seen such an alarming sight before. Sweetmeats and gaily coloured cloths were the bribes that attracted them most readily, and after a time they would become quite friendly, listening with uncomprehending patience while Lady Haigh, who was a true child of her generation, tried to teach them to adopt Western instead of Eastern ways. Those were the days in which much stress was laid by reformers on the importance of anglicising the native, and Lady Haigh was a good deal disheartened by the slight result of her efforts. The women listened to her with apparent docility, sometimes even did what she told them, under her eye, and then went home and made their tasteless _chapatis_, or put charms instead of eye-lotion on their babies, just as they had always done. She gave up trying to teach them at last, and vied with Penelope in making botanical collections, which were also a hobby of the day. Penelope collected grasses, of which there were many varieties; and Lady Haigh, not to be behindhand, began to collect wild-flowers, which were much less abundant. Sir Dugald, whose tastes were not botanical, collected skins and horns, for he managed to get a good deal of sport in his leisure hours, and when there was nothing to shoot, he inspected his wife’s and Penelope’s sketches, and sternly corrected mistakes in drawing. It was a happy, healthy life, and the colour began to return to Penelope’s cheeks and the light to her eyes. She could think of Major Keeling now without the vision of Colin’s anguished face rising between them, and the morbid feelings which had preyed upon her so long had become by degrees less acute. She and Lady Haigh called the district “the island-valley of Avilion,” rather to the mystification of Sir Dugald, who knew his Dickens better than his Tennyson. He was far too prudent, however, to show his bewilderment further than by pointing out mildly that the district was neither an island nor a valley--and besides, how could a valley be an island? “Dugald,” said Lady Haigh one evening, when Penelope happened to be out of earshot, “don’t you think Major Keeling would like to pay us a visit here?” “It’s not a bad place,” returned her husband, glancing round at the tents pitched among the trees. “But who ever heard of a sub inviting his chief out into camp to stay with him?” “Oh, I didn’t mean that exactly. He might come without being definitely asked. He would be sure to like to hear how we are getting on, wouldn’t he? Well, if I mentioned that you have had five tigers already, and were going after another soon----” “You won’t mention anything of the kind,” growled Sir Dugald. “I’m going to bag that man-eater, if any one does.”