e
inconceivable by Western minds; ready to lavish deep-hearted devotion
upon individual Nicholsons and Lawrences when they come her way; yet,
for all her surface submission and progress, not an inch nearer to
racial sympathy, or to the inner significance of English life and
character than she was fifty years ago.

But, in the meanwhile, our concern is with a minor Maharajah, and his
passion for musical boxes.

At the Resident's approach, the laughter and whispering ceased; and the
four boys endured with impassive politeness the mysterious rite of
introduction. The tinkling album gave Quita her cue. She insisted on
hearing its entire repertoire, which was mercifully limited; and her
natural ease of manner, her knack of plunging whole-heartedly into the
subject of the moment, soon put Govind Singh's shyness to flight. He
deserted monosyllables for clipped, hurried sentences, jerked out with
an odd mixture of nervousness and self-satisfaction. Quita flashed a
smile at Desmond, who stood sentry at her elbow, in seeming ignorance
of the fact that Garth was making tentative attempts to usurp his place.

"You must show me some of the others, Rajah Sahib," she declared, as
the complacent album clicked into silence, "and when I go home to
England I will hunt you up a new kind to add to your collection!"

The boy's eyes lost their look of lazy indifference; a gleam of superb
teeth illumined his face.

"An upright grand is the last trifling addition to it, Miss Maurice,"
Colonel Mayhew informed her, "but the Rajah was a little disappointed
when he found that it couldn't be set going by the turning of a key."

"I am liking the big noise--the big _tamasha_," the young monarch
explained in all gravity. "And I think that one is too much price for
a box that will do nothing unless somebody knows to make it speak."

"Mrs Desmond can make it speak for you, Rajah Sahib," Colonel Mayhew
suggested; and the boy turned upon her with shy eagerness.

"Can you really do a tune?" he asked.

"Several tunes!" she answered, smiling. "A big noise, if you like."

"Oh, that is very good business. Thanks awfully."

He spoke the slang phrases, picked up from Bathurst, with mechanical
precision; and Honor, still smiling, went over to the piano--a
flamboyant instrument of rosewood and gold. After a second of
hesitation Lenox followed, opened it for her, and resting a hand on the
gilt back of her chair, bent down to speak to her before s