Dressed for making a round of visits, Mrs. Krauss presented a different appearance from that loglike invalid her niece had first beheld. She was a picturesque, graceful woman, with a pair of heartrending dark eyes, while a little touch of colour on her faded cheeks illuminated a face that still exhibited the remains of a remarkable beauty. Mrs. Krauss, in a hired and luxurious motor, made a rapid round of calls among the principal mem-sahibs—who, as predicted, were not at home—and wrote her own and Sophy’s name in Government House book. The last house they visited was “The Barn.” Mrs. Gregory received them and gave Mrs. Krauss and her niece a genial welcome. She and Mrs. Krauss had known one another for years, but had never been really intimate or close friends. Mrs. Gregory was energetic, modern and vivacious; the other, a somewhat lethargic beauty, was not interested in the burning questions of the day, and had long ceased to take part in local gaieties; but her niece, as Milly said, was charming, and Mrs. Gregory felt immediately inspired by a liking for this pretty, graceful, unaffected girl. Sophy, for her part, was delighted with this large, English-looking drawing-room, with chintz-covered furniture, quantities of flowers, books, an open grand piano, and a pile of music. The hostess, too, Mrs. Milward’s cousin, attracted her and made her feel at home. “And what do you think of Rangoon?” inquired Mrs. Gregory. “Oh, do not ask her,” interposed Mrs. Krauss with a dramatic gesture, “she has been with me for more than a fortnight, and this is the first time she has been beyond Kokine. It is all my fault; she has had such a lot of housekeeping to see to and take over, and she is such a delightful companion that I have not been able to bear her out of my sight.” “But, dear Mrs. Krauss, we cannot allow you to appropriate Miss Leigh altogether. I hope you will spare her to me now and then. Perhaps Miss Leigh could come with me to the Gymkhana dance next week?” “I should like it very much indeed,” said Sophy, glancing interrogatively at her aunt. “Well, if I cannot take her myself, I shall be glad if you will chaperon Sophy. She has not had any amusement yet and one is young but once! And now we must go; no thank you, we won’t wait for tea. I intend to rush the child round the lakes—she has not seen them—and then do some shopping in the bazaar.” After the departure of her visitors, Mrs. Gregory stood in the veranda and watched them as they sped away together—the dark faded beauty, the pretty, fresh girl—and said to herself: “I wonder!” CHAPTER XV THE CHUMMERY