Eola was of her brother's way of thinking. She too looked at Alderbury's work with something like detached curiosity. His energy, his whole-hearted desire to see India Christianised, his indefatigable and unceasing sacrifice of self, appealed to the instinctive hero-worship that is implanted in every woman's breast; but though she could wonder and admire and was insensibly drawn by his personality, she could not understand the fascination that held him to his chosen profession. As for Mrs. Hulver she had her own reasons for disapproving of his visits, and it had nothing to do with his missionary zeal. Nevertheless she did not fail to provide a table worthy of her master's position. The food was substantial rather than recherché, nourishing rather than dainty. She had formed some fixed opinions upon the subject of missionaries generally; they were deeply rooted and unalterable. As a class missionaries required feeding up; their wardrobes needed the services of the dirzee to mend and patch and darn. She was puzzled more than a little when she found that Alderbury paid no particular attention to the food, and ate sparingly, with a distinct inclination towards daintiness. As for his wardrobe it was in better condition in some respects and needed less attention than the Doctor's. Not a sock required darning; not a coat needed stitching; and what was more, his clothes were not only new and none the worse for wear, but they were of the best and finest description. The pay of a missionary was known to be of narrow proportions, leaving no margin for luxury. It did not seem fit and proper in her eyes that he should be better dressed than his host. That he possessed anything besides his salary did not enter Mrs. Hulver's head; because if he had private means he never would have come to India as a missionary; he would have adopted the military service and been an officer in the army. Alderbury came and went at his own convenience, never announcing his proposed visit by more than a day or two, and never prolonging it beyond the two or three nights, which gave him at least one complete day's rest, so essential sometimes to the worker for whom Sunday is the busiest day of the week. How intensely the man enjoyed that day his hosts had little suspicion. Whether he discussed the latest theory in science or religion with Wenaston, or the latest novel with Eola, it was all pure happiness unclouded by a single anxiety.