"
"I wonder!" Hilda exclaimed brightly. She had turned down the leaf of
that mood. "But we are not cheerful--let us be cheerful. For my part, I
am rejoicing as I have not rejoiced since the first of December. Look at
this!"
She opened a small black leather bag and poured money out of it, notes
and currency, into her lap.
"Is it a legacy?"
"It's pay," she cried, with pleasure dimpling about her lips. "I have
been paid--we have all been paid! It's so unusual--it makes me feel
quite generous. Let me see. I'll give you this, and this, and this"--she
counted into her open palm ten silver rupees--"all those I will give you
for your mission. _Prends!_" and she clinked them together and held them
out to him.
He had risen to go, and his face looked grey and small. Something in him
had mutinied at the levity, the quick change of her mood. He could only
draw into his shell; doubtless he thought that a legitimate and
inoffensive proceeding.
"Thanks, no," he said, "I think not. We desire people's prayers, rather
than their alms."
He went away immediately, and she glossed over his scandalous behaviour
and said farewell to him as usual, in spite of the unusual look of
consciousness in her eyes.
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