for Hawkins's camp by the railway, timing his arrival to fit in with the dinner-hour, for it was long since he had eaten at a cloth. He had no desire to make any dramatic entry, but an accident of the sunset ordered it that, when he had taken off his helmet to get the evening breeze, the low light should fall across his forehead, and he could not see what was before him; while one waiting at the tent door beheld, with new eyes, a young man, beautiful as Paris, a god in a halo of golden dust, walking slowly at the head of his flocks, while at his knee ran small naked Cupids. But she laughed – William, in a slate-coloured blouse, laughed consumedly till Scott, putting the best face he could upon the matter, halted his armies and bade her admire the kindergarten. It was an unseemly sight, but the proprieties had been left ages ago, with the tea-party at Amritsar Station, fifteen hundred miles to the northward.
'They are coming on nicely,' said William. 'We've only five-and-twenty here now. The women are beginning to take them away again.'
'Are you in charge of the babies, then?'
'Yes – Mrs. Jim and I. We didn't think of goats, though. We've been trying condensed milk and water.'
'Any losses?'
'More than I care to think of,' said William, with a shudder. 'And you?'
Scott said nothing. There had been many little burials along his route – many mothers who had wept when they did not find again the children they had trusted to the care of the Government.
Then Hawkins came out carrying a razor, at which Scott looked hungrily, for he had a beard that he did not love. And when they sat down to dinner in the tent he told his tale in few words, as it might have been an official report. Mrs. Jim snuffled from time to time, and Jim bowed his head judicially; but William's gray eyes were on the clean-shaven face, and it was to her that Scott seemed to speak.
'Good for the Pauper Province!' said William, her chin in her hand, as she leaned forward among the wine-glasses. Her cheeks had fallen in, and the scar on her forehead was more prominent than ever, but the well-turned neck rose roundly as a column from the ruffle of the blouse which was the accepted evening-dress in camp.
'It was awfully absurd at times,' said Scott. 'You see I didn't know much about milking or babies. They'll chaff my head off, if the tale goes north.'
'Let 'em,' said William, haughtily. 'We've all done coolie-work since we came. I know Jack has.' This was to Hawkins's address, and the big man smiled blandly.
'Your brother's a highly efficient officer, William,' said he, and I've done him the honour of treating him as he deserves. Remember, I write the confidential reports.'
'Then you must say that William's worth her weight in gold,' said Mrs. Jim. 'I don't know what we should have done without her. She has been everything to us.' She dropped her hand upon William's, which was rough with much handling of reins, and William patted it softly. Jim beamed on the company. Things were going well with his world. Three of his more grossly incompetent men had died, and their places had been filled by their betters. Every day brought the rains nearer. They had put out the famine in five of the Eight Districts, and, after all, the death-rate had not been too heavy – things considered. He looked Scott over carefully, as an ogre looks over a man, and rejoiced in his thews and iron-hard condition.
'He's just the least bit in the world tucked up,' said Jim to himself, 'but he can do two men's work yet.' Then he was aware that Mrs. Jim was telegraphing to him, and according to the domestic code the message ran: 'A clear case. Look at them!'
He looked and listened. All that William was saying was: 'What can you expect of a country where they call a bhistee [a water-carrier] a tunni-cutch?' and all that Scott answered was: 'I shall be precious glad to get back to the Club. Save me a dance at the Christmas ball, won't you?'
'It's a far cry from here to the Lawrence Hall,' said Jim. 'Better turn in early, Scott. It's paddy-carts to-morrow; you'll begin loading at five.'
'Aren't you going to give Mr. Scott one day's rest?'
'Wish I could, Lizzie. 'Fraid I can't. As long as he can stand up we must use him.'
'Well, I've had one Europe evening, at least … By Jove, I'd nearly forgotten! What do I do about those babies of mine?'
'Leave them here,' said William – 'we are in charge of that – and as many goats as you can spare. I must learn how to milk now.'
'If you care to get up early enough to-morrow I'll show you. I have to milk, you see; and, by the way, half of em have beads and things round their necks. You must be careful not to take 'em off, in case the mothers turn up.'
'You forget I've had some experience here.'
'I hope to goodness you won't overdo.' Scott's voice was unguarded.
'I'll take care of her,' said Mrs. Jim, telegraphing hundred-word messages as she carried William off, while Jim gave Scott his orders for the coming campaign. It was very late – nearly nine o'clock.
'Jim, you're a brute,' said his wife, that night; and the Head of the
Famine chuckled.
'Not a bit of it, dear I remember doing the first Jandiala Settlement for the sake of a girl in a crinoline; and she was slender, Lizzie. I've never done as good a piece of work since. He'll work like a demon.'
'But you might have given him one day.'
'And let things come to a head now? No, dear; it's their happiest time.'
'I don't believe either of the dears know what's the matter with them. Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it lovely?'
'Getting up at three to learn to milk, bless her heart! Ye gods, why must we grow old and fat?'
'She's a darling. She has done more work under me – '
'Under you! The day after she came she was in charge and you were her subordinate, and you've stayed there ever since. She manages you almost as well as you manage me.'
'She doesn't, and that's why I love her. She's as direct as a man-as her brother.'
'Her brother's weaker than she is. He's always coming to me for orders; but he's honest, and a glutton for work. I confess I'm rather fond of William, and if I had a daughter – '
The talk ended there. Far away in the Derajat was a child's grave more than twenty years old, and neither Jim nor his wife spoke of it any more.
'All the same, you're responsible,' Jim added, after a moment's silence.
'Bless 'em,' said Mrs. Jim, sleepily.
Before the stars paled, Scott, who slept in an empty cart, waked and went about his work in silence; it seemed at that hour unkind to rouse Faiz Ullah and the interpreter. His head being close to the ground, he did not hear William till she stood over him in the dingy old riding-habit, her eyes still heavy with sleep, a cup of tea and a piece of toast in her hands. There was a baby on the ground, squirming on a piece of blanket, and a six-year-old child peered over Scott's shoulder.
'Hai, you little rip,' said Scott, 'how the deuce do you expect to get your rations if you aren't quiet?'
A cool white hand steadied the brat, who forthwith choked as the milk gurgled into his mouth.
'Mornin',' said the milker. 'You've no notion how these little fellows can wriggle.'
'Oh, yes, I have.' She whispered, because the world was asleep. 'Only
I feed them with a spoon or a rag. Yours are fatter than mine…
And you've been doing this day after day, twice a day?' The voice was almost lost.
'Yes; it was absurd. Now you try,' he said, giving place to the girl.
'Look out! A goat's not a cow.'
The goat protested against the amateur, and there was a scuffle, in which Scott snatched up the baby. Then it was all to do over again, and William laughed softly and merrily. She managed, however, to feed two babies, and a third.
'Don't the little beggars take it well!' said Scott. 'I trained 'em.'
They were very busy and interested, when, lo! it was broad daylight,