"None whatever. His life at the English University taught him tolerance. He recommends me to get the boys back at all costs as soon as possible. A mission agent like Alderbury is the right person to give the help required, and it is unfortunate that he cannot come just now. He argues that the missionary is paid to make converts and to help them; and the natives recognise the fact. Because he is paid to proselytise, they are ready to tolerate more from him than from an unpaid agent. It is equally well known that I am paid to teach and not to proselytise. This is a country that expects nothing more from a man than what he is paid for. Anything done in excess of the purchased duty must have, in public opinion, some hidden motive." "Can't people understand that your motive in helping Ananda is a religious one?" "No; and it seems impossible to convince them otherwise. Even the Vice, though he knows me so well, had a suspicion that there was a mercenary motive underlying my desire to assist Ananda. He suspected that I was working for a reward from Alderbury or for a bribe from the family. I think he inclined to the latter theory; but he was careful to hide his suspicions as they were not complimentary to me." "I hope you undeceived him." "I pretended not to see which way his thoughts leaned. What have you done with your letter?" "I gave it to Mrs. Hulver. I explained the case to her, thinking she might contrive to have it conveyed somehow to Ananda without discovery." Wenaston rose at once. "It won't do," he said. "There must be no communication between this house and Ananda's. I'll see Mrs. Hulver myself and tell her my wishes. She must understand definitely what they are." He passed through the house towards the back verandah into which Mrs. Hulver's room opened. "Poor Ananda!" thought Eola. "Will he have the courage to hold out? I am afraid my courage would melt away before such a fire of persecution as he seems to be meeting." Wenaston presented himself at the door of Mrs. Hulver's sitting room. She met him with a broad smile of pleasure. Just behind her stood a man in uniform, the mother's smile reflected on his face. "This is William, my son, sir. He has just arrived from Bangalore. He's the very image of his father. Stand forward and let Dr. Wenaston look at you." She pushed the shy awkward young soldier forward. He stood at attention as if confronting his colonel and lifted his hand in a military salute. "Very glad to see you, Smith. So he is like his father is he?" he said. "They are as like as two peas, sir, in every respect but one. My son takes after his grandmother on my side in his complexion. He is darker than his father, who was very fair. But as William--that was my first--used to say if any one remarked on his being dark: 'Human blood is all of one colour no matter what sort of a skin may cover it.'"