Rujub, the Juggler. Henty George Alfred

broke into a laugh.

      “Don’t frighten her, Doctor.”

      “She is not so easily frightened, Major; it is just as well that she should be prepared. Well, my dear Miss Hannay, Indian society has this peculiarity, that the women never grow old. At least,” he continued, in reply to the girl’s look of surprise, “they are never conscious of growing old. At home a woman’s family grows up about her, and are constant reminders that she is becoming a matron. Here the children are sent away when they get four or five years old, and do not appear on the scene again until they are grown up. Then, too, ladies are greatly in the minority, and they are accustomed to be made vastly more of than they are at home, and the consequence is that the amount of envy, hatred, jealousy, and all uncharitableness is appalling.”

      “No, no, Doctor, not as bad as that,” the Major remonstrated.

      “Every bit as bad as that,” the Doctor said stoutly. “I am not a woman hater, far from it; but I have felt sometimes that if John Company, in its beneficence, would pass a decree absolutely excluding the importation of white women into India it would be an unmixed blessing.”

      “For shame, Doctor,” Isobel Hannay said; “and to think that I should have such a high opinion of you up to now.”

      “I can’t help it, my dear; my experience is that for ninety-nine out of every hundred unpleasantnesses that take place out here, women are in one way or another responsible. They get up sets and cliques, and break up what might be otherwise pleasant society into sections. Talk about caste amongst natives; it is nothing to the caste among women out here. The wife of a civilian of high rank looks down upon the wives of military men, the general’s wife looks down upon a captain’s, and so right through from the top to the bottom.

      “It is not so among the men, or at any rate to a very much smaller extent. Of course, some men are pompous fools, but, as a rule, if two men meet, and both are gentlemen, they care nothing as to what their respective ranks may be. A man may be a lord or a doctor, a millionaire or a struggling barrister, but they meet on equal terms in society; but out here it is certainly not so among the women—they stand upon their husband’s dignity in a way that would be pitiable if it were not exasperating. Of course, there are plenty of good women among them, as there are everywhere—women whom even India can’t spoil; but what with exclusiveness, and with the amount of admiration and adulation they get, and what with the want of occupation for their thoughts and minds, it is very hard for them to avoid getting spoilt.”

      “Well, I hope I shan’t get spoilt, Doctor; and I hope, if you see that I am getting spoilt, you will make a point of telling me so at once.”

      The Doctor grunted. “Theoretically, people are always ready to receive good advice, Miss Hannay; practically they are always offended by it. However, in your case I will risk it, and I am bound to say that hitherto you have proved yourself more amenable in that way than most young women I have come across.”

      “And now, if we have done, we will go out on the veranda,” the Major said. “I am sure the Doctor must be dying for a cheroot.”

      “The Doctor has smoked pretty continuously since we left Allahabad,” Isobel said. “He wanted to sit up with the driver, but, of course, I would not have that. I had got pretty well accustomed to smoke coming out, and even if I had not been I would much rather have been almost suffocated than have been in there by myself. I thought a dozen times the vehicle was going to upset, and what with the bumping and the shouting and the cracking of the whip—especially when the horses wouldn’t start, which was generally the case at first—I should have been frightened out of my life had I been alone. It seemed to me that something dreadful was always going to happen.”

      “You can take it easy this morning, Isobel,” the Major said, when they were comfortably seated in the bamboo lounges in the veranda. “You want have any callers today, as it will be known you traveled all night. People will imagine that you want a quiet day before you are on show.”

      “What a horrid expression, uncle!”

      “Well, my dear, it represents the truth. The arrival of a fresh lady from England, especially of a ‘spin,’ which is short for spinster or unmarried woman, is an event of some importance in an Indian station. Not, of course, so much in a place like this, because this is the center of a large district, but in a small station it is an event of the first importance. The men are anxious to see what a newcomer is like for herself; the women, to look at her dresses and see the latest fashions from home, and also to ascertain whether she is likely to turn out a formidable rival. However, today you can enjoy quiet; tomorrow you must attire yourself in your most becoming costume, and I will trot you round.”

      “Trot me round, uncle?”

      “Yes, my dear. In India the order of procedure is reversed, and newcomers call in the first place upon residents.”

      “What a very unpleasant custom, uncle; especially as some of the residents may not want to know them.”

      “Well, everyone must know everyone else in a station, my dear, though they may not wish to be intimate. So, about half past one tomorrow we will start.”

      “What, in the heat of the day, uncle?”

      “Yes, my dear. That is another of the inscrutable freaks of Indian fashion. The hours for calling are from about half past twelve to half past two, just in the hottest hours. I don’t pretend to account for it.”

      “How many ladies are there in the regiment?”

      “There is the Colonel’s wife, Mrs. Cromarty. She has two grown up red headed girls,” replied the Doctor. “She is a distant relation—a second cousin—of some Scotch lord or other, and, on the strength of that and her husband’s colonelcy, gives herself prodigious airs. Three of the captains are married. Mrs. Doolan is a merry little Irish woman. You will like her. She has two or three children. She is a general favorite in the regiment.

      “Mrs. Rintoul—I suppose she is here still, Major, and unchanged? Ah, I thought so. She is a washed-out woman, without a spark of energy in her composition.-’ She believes that she is a chronic invalid, and sends for me on an average once a week. But there is nothing really the matter with her, if she would but only believe it. Mrs. Roberts—”

      “Don’t be ill natured, Doctor,” the Major broke in. “Mrs. Roberts, my dear, is a good-looking woman, and a general flirt. I don’t think there is any harm in her whatever. Mrs. Prothero, the Adjutant’s wife, has only been out here eighteen months, and is a pretty little woman, and in all respects nice.-There is only one other, Mrs. Scarsdale; she came out six months ago. She is a quiet young woman, with, I should say, plenty of common sense: I should think you will like her. That completes the regimental list.”

      “Well, that is not so very formidable. Anyhow, it is a. comfort that we shall have no one here today.”

      “You will have the whole regiment here in a few minutes, Isobel, but they will be coming to see the Doctor, not you; if it hadn’t been that they knew you were under his charge everyone would have come down to meet him when he arrived. But if you feel tired, as I am sure you must be after your journey, there is no reason why you shouldn’t go and lie down quietly for a few hours.”

      “I will stop here, uncle; it will be much less embarrassing to see them all for the first time when they come to see Dr. Wade and I am quite a secondary consideration, than if they had to come specially to call on me.”

      “Well, I agree with you there, my dear. Ah! here come Doolan and Prothero.”

      A light trap drove into the inclosure and drew up in front of the veranda, and two officers jumped down,-whilst the syce, who had been standing on a step behind, ran to the horse’s head. They hailed the Doctor, as he stepped out from the veranda, with a shout.

      “Glad to see you back, Doctor. The regiment has not seemed like itself without you.”

      “We have been just pining without you, Doctor,” Captain Doolan said; “and the ladies would have got up a deputation to meet you on your arrival, only I told them that it would be too much for your modesty.”

      “Well,