ng to sleep, she frowned upon the discovery that her ayah
appeared to have left the books upon Howrah Station; and had stretched
her arm to rap upon the wall to summon the woman, when her eye caught
sight of a paper volume lying under the opposite bunk.

India is certainly a most dusty land, but a traveller can keep his
railway compartment and boots spotless by distributing a few _pice_ to
the dusky, cheery youngsters, who, salaaming, solicit the favour of
using boot polish, or floor brush, to the mutual benefit of self and
the sahib. Leonie, therefore, felt no repugnance when, clutching the
table with her left hand, she made a long arm and secured the book,
which proved to be a guide to India's most famous beauty spots.

She turned the leaves casually and laughed.

"Why! I'd completely forgotten it," she said aloud, turning the book
sideways to look at an illustration. "The wonderful tomb Guy Dean
insisted upon my visiting if I ever went to Benares. How beautiful!
Must be the tomb of some ancestor of that young prince he was talking
about. Oh! how beautiful, and--oh! how helpful! I suppose some
Englishman must have left the book in the train by mistake."

She had picked up a bit of paper which had fallen from the book; a
rough time-table with directions in English as to the best means of
getting to the world-famed monument.

"That decides it," she said sleepily as she switched off the light,
pulled a miniature mosquito net, deftly arranged by the ayah, over her
head, and the sheet up to her neck. "We get to the station
to-morrow--sometime--disembark--put luggage into cloak-room--find
elephant and--and dak bungalow--and--oh! almost full moon--how--_how_
delicious---ride out and see the--the----"

She slept, oblivious of the fact that she was carrying out implicitly
the programme mapped out for her.

Travelling in India is real sport when the train doors are likely to
swing open at no given spot, soft-footed natives to enter
surreptitiously and disappear as quietly upon sight of your open eyes;
and guards to clamour for your ticket, while a mob collects outside
your door at the junction to look at the pretty unveiled mem-sahib
awakened from her slumber by a dignified bearer with his offering of
_chotar hazri_, which means the thrice blessed early tea-tray.

Her restless spirit was soothed by the rush of the train through the
endless plain; strange scenes, strange sights wrenched her mind from
the terrible