given to the
sweeper's family. Who will eat of thy cooking tonight when the child is
like to die?"

"Not the sweeper and his family, _bhai_,[5] but we of the kitchen shall
have a feast, have no fears." "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good,"
was the essence of the cook's philosophy, and since there was no
swine-flesh in the menu, there was no reason why Mohammedans should not
enjoy the repast he was cooking for the Sahib's table. It was a
dispensation of Providence that had not made him at birth a Hindu like
the watchman, who took pride in the exclusiveness of his caste, yet
feasted on the sly, on things forbidden.

[Footnote 5: Brother.]

Inside the tent the lady and the ayah together ministered to the small
sufferer lying in the warm bath. The sympathetic servant supported the
light body which had relaxed its rigidity, while the mother bathed the
brows and head with cold water.

"He is better, ayah, don't you think?" asked Mrs. Meredith, dependent on
the woman's superior knowledge.

"Plenty better, Ma'am. Heaven is merciful."

"Or do you think he is dying? Don't lie to me."

"He not dying, oh, no! See that black round his mouth?--now fast going.
This is what they call _bahose_."

"Thank God if it's only that. Children recover from fainting fits, don't
they? Oh, ayah, I could not bear to lose my baby!" she cried in choked
accents.

"Say not like that. Got is goot and the baba will live. Now take out of
the water, dry, and keep head cool," said the woman whose experience in
the management of infants had gained her her present post at some
considerable advantage to herself.

They placed the limp form, when dried, on the cool sheets in its crib
and hung upon its every breath.

"Barnes-_mem_ saying, when bad with fever, lap plenty hot place, bed
goot," the ayah remarked; "Barnes-_mem_," a former mistress, being a
standard reference in nursery difficulties.

"Had she many children?"

"Children? My lort! Every year a child. She was plenty blest. One child
for every finger, and a grand-child older than her last. Master, he
shake his head and say, 'Damn-damn,' but Barnes-_mem_, she say, 'Let
come; the Lort will provide.'"

"Were they all brought up in India?"

"In Calcutta they were born and grew up; no Darjeeling _pahar_;[6] no
Munsuri _pahar_! All living; all plenty strong."

[Footnote 6: Mountains.]

"Yet most children cannot thrive out here--English, I mean."

"English Memsahib making much fuss