s." She blushed scarlet--the
first time I had ever seen her really embarrassed. It was very natural
that she should be thinking of Isaacs and the strange adventures he had
just recounted; and if she had not cared about him she would not have
changed colour. So I thought, at all events.

"My dear, drink some water immediately, this curry is very hot--deuced
hot, in fact," said Mr. Ghyrkins, in perfectly good faith.

John Westonhaugh, who was busy breaking up biscuits and green peppers
and "Bombay ducks" into his curry, looked up slowly at his sister and
smiled.

"Why, you are quite a griffin, Katharine," said he, "how they will laugh
at you in Bombay!" I was amused; of course the remarks of her uncle and
brother did not make the blush subside--on the contrary. Kildare was
drinking more claret, to conceal his annoyance. Isaacs had a curious
expression. There was a short silence, and for one instant he turned his
eyes to Miss Westonhaugh. It was only a look, but it betrayed to me--who
knew what he felt--infinite surprise, joy, and sympathy. His quick
understanding had comprehended that he had scored his first victory over
his rival.

As her eyes met those of Isaacs, the colour left her cheeks as suddenly
as it had come, leaving her face dead white. She drank a little water,
and presently seemed at ease again. I was beginning to think she cared
for him seriously.

"And pray, John," she asked, "what may a griffin be? It is not a very
pretty name to call a young lady, is it?"

"Why, a griffin," put in Mr. Ghyrkins, "is the 'Mr. Verdant Green' of
the Civil Service. A young civilian--or anybody else--who is just out
from home is called a griffin. John calls you a griffin because you
don't understand eating pepper. You don't find it as _chilly_ as he
does! Ha! ha! ha!" and the old fellow laughed heartily, till he was red
in the face, at his bleared old pun. Of course every one was amused or
professed to be, for it was a diversion welcomed by the three men of us
who had seen the young girl's embarrassment.

"A griffin," said I, "is a thing of joy. Mr. Westonhaugh was a griffin
when he gave Mr. Isaacs that historical rupee." I cast my little
bombshell into the conversation, and placidly went on manipulating my
rice.

Isaacs was in too gay a humour to be offended, and he only said, turning
to Miss Westonhaugh--

"Mr. Griggs is a cynyic, you know. You must not believe anything he
says."

"If doing kind things makes one