more serious and ineffaceable than they really are. We talked
together all through the evening, and rehearsed the story of the
death of The Boy. As soon as the moon was up, and The Boy,
theoretically, just buried, we struck across country for the
Station. We walked from eight till six o'clock in the morning; but
though we were dead-tired, we did not forget to go to The Boy's
room and put away his revolver with the proper amount of cartridges
in the pouch. Also to set his writing-case on the table. We found
the Colonel and reported the death, feeling more like murderers
than ever. Then we went to bed and slept the clock round; for
there was no more in us.

The tale had credence as long as was necessary, for every one
forgot about The Boy before a fortnight was over. Many people,
however, found time to say that the Major had behaved scandalously
in not bringing in the body for a regimental funeral. The saddest
thing of all was a letter from The Boy's mother to the Major and
me--with big inky blisters all over the sheet. She wrote the
sweetest possible things about our great kindness, and the
obligation she would be under to us as long as she lived.

All things considered, she WAS under an obligation; but not exactly
as she meant.



MISS YOUGHAL'S SAIS.


When Man and Woman are agreed, what can the Kazi do?