A little hitch at one time seemed likely to upset his plans. It was a matter of religion. Hulver was a Roman Catholic. Maria belonged to the English Church. He made an effort to bring her over to his side, but she stood firm; and sooner than lose so desirable a partner he joined her Church. They were very happy, but unfortunately he did not live long, and for the third time she was widowed. After his death she found life very dull. She determined to take a situation as housekeeper and advertised in one of the big Indian daily newspapers. Eola Wenaston, who came out with her brother on his appointment as Principal of the College of Chirapore, saw the advertisement and engaged her. The arrangement proved highly satisfactory to both. During Dr. and Miss Wenaston's six months' holiday in England Mrs. Hulver occupied one of her own houses at Bangalore. The enforced idleness was not at all to her mind, and she welcomed their return with unmixed joy. In her holiday she replenished her wardrobe by the aid of a tailor. The new muslins and white drill frocks were cut exactly on the old pattern--a skirt that gave plenty of room and spread like a bell over her feet; a bodice that showed no fashionable bulge in sleeve or shoulder but confined her figure decently and comfortably. White linen collar and cuffs and neatly fastened waistband completed her daily costume. On Sunday Mrs. Hulver was another person. Her silks "stood alone," as she herself expressed it; and the flowers of her bonnet would have covered half a market stall had they been real. Mrs. Hulver stood on the top step under the large portico, her clean white skirt extended with starch, her hands folded and a severe expression on her face. Ramachetty, the butler, a middle-aged under-sized native with an apologetic manner, fidgeted behind her in evident discomfort. She addressed him in English over her shoulder. The native tongue was perfectly familiar; it had been her own in her mother's house; but she chose English as being more in keeping with her dignity as a housekeeper and it assisted to maintain her character as an Englishwoman, which she was not. "Call the gardener," she said, with a clear enunciation and very little Eurasian accent. From her father and two of her husbands she had picked up a curious mixture of expressions. Probably the summons was expected; for the gardener appeared from behind the bungalow with the abruptness of a jack-in-the-box. "Tell him to bring the pots of roses here."