Yielding sweetly to the eager entreaties showered upon her, Mabel consented, and in the talk which followed set herself to gain an acquaintance with all the gaieties that were to be expected during the following week. When Georgia came to say that Colonel Graham was obliged to leave, the two girls were discussing ball dresses with the keenest interest. “I can’t make Mabel out,” Georgia said to her husband that night. “Sometimes she seems in such deadly earnest, and yet she is as anxious as possible to take part in everything that is going on.” “But why in the world shouldn’t she be?” “It’s not that; but I can’t think why she should care for it.” “No, I suppose not. You never felt that you must play the fool for a bit now and then or die, did you, Georgie? But Mab does--has periodical fits of it, alternating with the deadly earnest. Let her alone to have her fling. She’ll settle down some day, and it’s not as if it did any harm.” But Georgia was not convinced. CHAPTER III. “IN HIS SIMPLICITY SUBLIME.” “The Major not back from the durbar yet, I suppose, Mrs North? Have you heard this extraordinary report about Bahram Khan?” “No, I didn’t know there was any report going about,” answered Georgia. She was driving Mabel to the club, and had stopped to speak to the station surgeon, a cheerful little stout man, riding a frisky pony which danced merrily about the road, while its master tried in vain to induce it to stand still. “It’s all over the bazaar, and one of the hospital assistants told me. They say that the Commissioner means to insist on Bahram Khan’s being restored to his lands and honours, and to advise poor old Ashraf Ali strongly to accept him again as his heir.” “Oh, that gives the whole thing away,” said Georgia, more cheerfully, “for the Amir’s adoption of Bahadar Shah was recognised by the Government of India. Was all this to happen to-day, Dr Tighe?” “Yes, at this durbar. Quite thrilling, isn’t it? Well, I must be off on my rounds. When am I to have that game of tennis you promised me, Miss North?” and the doctor rode away, while Georgia drove on, with brows drawn into an anxious frown. “It’s quite impossible,” she said at last, rousing herself. “He couldn’t spring such a mine upon us. Look, Mab! this is my father’s old house.” “But why don’t you live in it?” asked Mabel, looking with much interest at the flat-roofed building with its massive stone walls and narrow windows. Georgia laughed. “Because the accommodation is a little too Spartan for a family,” she said. “My father prided himself on his powers of roughing it, and all his young men had to follow his example. Mr Anstruther inhabits the house at present, in company with the official records, for the office is large and airy, and Dick uses it still.”