They found Eola in the garden looking at the roses. Her favourites were all back in their places, a dozen beautiful _La France_ plants. Whether they were the originals she could not say. The pruning was always a severe process that deprived the bushes of individual features and made them all of one pattern. Mrs. Hulver was not far off; and the gardener, beaming with satisfaction at the thought that his full wages were assured, was half concealed behind a bank of ferns where he was pretending to be very busy picking off dead leaves. Eola greeted Ananda with a friendly welcome that set him at ease; talked of her roses and other matters of no importance. "I want to thank you, Miss Wenaston, for all that you sent yesterday by Mr. Alderbury," he said. "You must thank my housekeeper. It was her thought. Mrs. Hulver! Mr. Ananda is very grateful to you for thinking of him in his need." Mrs. Hulver, thus encouraged, approached and cast her shrewd grey eyes over the visitor. His neat European dress and manner met with her approval. "I am glad the food was acceptable. I saw to the cooking of it myself. Mr. Alderbury told me that you had been obliged to live on biscuits--poor stuff for young stomachs. What a man wants is a hot meal once a day. There should be meat as well as bread or rice. I wasn't able to send you any meat, Mr. Ananda." "I don't eat meat, so it was all right." "Do you like fish?" "Yes; and vegetables curried; but I have not tasted a curry since I landed." "Then you've gone to bed hungry more often than not in spite of your biscuits. As William--that was my second husband--used to say: 'Sharp stomachs make short tempers.' The best temper will sour under starvation." A little later Ananda said good-bye and walked back to his father's house. On the way he met Bopaul. Mayita was his companion. Regardless of ill omens the brother had renewed his friendship with his sister; he took her for daily walks, avoiding the places where men and women congregated. "Not afraid of being contaminated by the company of an outcaste?" said Ananda with some bitterness, as Bopaul turned to stroll part of the way with his friend. "No; nor of being overshadowed by the widow," replied Bopaul with a light laugh. "How are things going with you?" Ananda related the experience of the last week and his employment at the college, together with his plans for the future. "You will certainly have to clear out of your father's house as soon as you can if you want any comfort." "I shall not go without my wife and child," said Ananda, with the old obstinacy. "How is the child?" inquired Bopaul. "The child! Is it ill that you ask?" said Ananda, startled. "It had a fall the day you returned. No effect was seen at first but a few days ago it complained of pain; and my mother, who went to see it, thought that it was ill, though not very bad. Haven't they told you?"