oolishly meddled in things inevitable,
beyond repair. She was right. Yet some vague, insurgent instinct, which
would not down, told him that there had been a disappointment. Still,
what had he expected? No woman could help; no woman.

Then suddenly he mounted, bundle and all, and turned his willing pony
homeward.

"Come," he said; and for the first time, unwittingly, had taken charge.

"What is it?" she called. "You foolish boy! What's your plan?"

"We shall see," he answered. Without waiting, he beckoned her to follow.
She came. They rode stirrup to stirrup, silent as in their escape at
dawn, and as close bodily, but in spirit traveling distant parallels. He
gave no thought to that, riding toward his experiment. Near the town, at
last, he reined aside to a cluster of buildings,--white walls and rosy
tiles under a great willow.

"You may save your steps," she declared, with sudden petulance. "The
hospital's more out of funds than ever, and more crowded. They'll not
thank you."

Rudolph nodded back at her, with a queer smile, half reckless and half
confident.

"Then," he replied, dismounting, "I will replenish my nunnery."

Squatting coolies sprang up and raced to hold his pony. Others, in the
shade of the wall, cackled when they saw a Son of the Red-Haired so
beplastered and sopping. A few pointed at his bundle, with grunts of
sudden interest; and a leper, bearing the visage as of a stone lion
defaced by time, cried something harshly. At his words, the whole band
of idlers began to chatter.

Rudolph turned to aid his companion. She sat watching them sharply. An
uneasy light troubled the innocent blue eyes, which had not even a
glance for him.

"No, I shan't get down," she said angrily. "It's just what might
be--Your little brat will bring no good to any of us."

He flung away defiantly, strode through the gate, and calling aloud,
traversed an empty compound, already heated by the new-risen sun. A
cooler fringe of veranda, or shallow cloister, lined a second court. Two
figures met him,--the dark-eyed Miss Drake, all in white, and behind
her a shuffling, grinning native woman, who carried a basin, in which
permanganate of potash swam gleaming like diluted blood.

"Good-morning." With one droll look of amusement, the girl had
understood, and regained that grave yet happy, friendly composure which
had the virtue, he discovered, of being easily forgotten, to be met each
time like something new. "What have you