The Native Born | Page 6

ponies.
Nobody else has more than two."
"Do you calculate wealth by polo ponies, then?"
Lois laughed.
"Yes, we do pretty well," she said--"that is, when we bother about such
things at all. Most people are poor, and if they aren't, they have to live
beyond their income, so it comes to the same in the end."
"Everybody looks cheerful enough," Beatrice Cary observed. "I always
thought poverty and worry went together."
"Who is that talking about poverty and worry?" asked a voice behind
them. "Is it you, Miss Caruthers? If so, I shall arraign you as a disturber
of the peace. Who wants to be bothered with the memory of his empty
purse on such a lovely day?"
Lois turned with a smile to the new-comer.
"No, I am innocent, Captain Stafford," she said. "It was Miss Cary who
brought up the terms you object to."
"Well, won't you introduce me, then, so that I can express my
displeasure direct to the culprit?"
The ceremony of introduction was gone through, on Beatrice Cary's
side with a sudden change of manner. Hitherto cold, indifferent,
slightly supercilious, she now relaxed into a gentleness that was almost
appealing.
"This is a new world for me," she said, looking up into Captain
Stafford's amused face, "and I have so many questions to ask that I am
afraid of turning into a mark of interrogation, or--as you said--a
disturber of the peace."

"You won't ask questions long," he answered, with a wise shake of the
head. "Nobody does. Wherever English people go they take their whole
paraphernalia with them; and you will find that, with a few superficial
differences, Marut is no more or less than a snug little English suburb.
A little more freedom of intercourse--a little less Philistinism,
perhaps--but the foundations are the same. As to India itself, one soon
learns to forget all about it."
He then turned to Lois, who was intent on watching Mr. Travers.
"You weren't on the race-course this morning," he said in an undertone.
"I missed you. Why did you not come?"
"I couldn't," she said. "There was too much to be done. We are rather
short of servants just now, for reasons--well, that, according to you,
ought not to be mentioned on a fine day."
He laughed, but not as he had hitherto done. There was another tone in
his voice, warmer, more confidential. It attracted Beatrice Cary's
attention, and she looked curiously from Lois to the man beside her.
About thirty-five, with a passably good figure, irregular, if honest,
features, and an expression usually somewhat grave, he made no
pretensions to any exterior advantage. He could apparently be gay, as
now, but his gaiety did not conceal the fact that it was unusual.
Altogether, he had nothing about him which appealed to her, but
Beatrice Cary was inclined to resent Lois' obvious intimacy with him as
something which accentuated her own isolation.
"Can you make out what Mr. Travers is saying?" Lois asked, turning
suddenly to her. "I can't hear a word, and I'm sure it's awfully
interesting. Captain Stafford, do you know?"
"I can guess," he answered, half smiling. "When Travers has a
suggestion to make, it usually means that some one has to stump up."
There was a general laugh. Travers looked around.
"Some one has accused me falsely," he declared. "I have a prophetic

sense of injury."
"On the contrary, that is what I am suffering from," Stafford retorted.
"Since hearing that you have a new scheme, I have been hastily
reckoning how many weeks' leave I shall have to sacrifice to pay for
it."
Travers shook his head.
"As usual--wrong, my dear Captain," he said. "My scheme has two
parts. The first part is known to you all, though for the benefit of weak
memories, I will repeat it. Ladies and gentlemen, in this Station we
have the honor of being protected from the malice of the aborigine by
two noble regiments. We count, moreover, at least thirty of the fair sex
and forty miscellaneous persons, such as miserable civilians like myself,
and children. Hitherto, we have been content to meet at odd times and
odd places. When hospitality has run dry, we have resorted to a
shed-like structure dignified with the name of club. Personally, I call it
a disgrace, which should at once be rectified."
"I have already contributed my mite!" protested a young subaltern from
the British regiment.
"I know; so has everybody. With strenuous efforts I have collected the
sum of five hundred rupees. That won't do. We require at least four
times that sum. Consequently, we must have a patron."
"The second part of your programme concerns the patron, then?"
Captain Webb inquired, with an aspect of considerable relief. "Not
yourself, by any chance?"
"Certainly not. If