syce produces from somewhere concealed about his body the little bit of string, and all is well again. The harness may break once again or even twice upon the homeward way, but that little bit of string gets you home at last. It's the same if you break a shaft or a wheel or a lamp. You never need worry, for the syce is sure to have a little bit of string. I've known people out in India drive regularly to the club every night with a tum-tum and harness that were only kept from a speedy dissolution by those useful little bits of string. Once I had to fall back on a little bit of string for my own personal use. But that's another story.
'What lots of luggage,' said Berengaria, as we watched the tonga slowly approach. 'And what lots of delightful smart clothes I expect you've got inside.'
Berengaria looked my travelling costume up and down appreciatively as if things seen augured well for the things as yet unseen.
'I've given you two big almirahs in your room, so that you'll be able to hang all your dresses up,' she said. 'I expect you'll want to unpack them at once;' and being a woman I knew by that that Berengaria was just dying to see what they were like.
Suddenly my thoughts went back to that dreadful pink dressing-gown. If Berengaria was going to see the unpacking, as I knew she would, it would have to come to light.
'Talking of dressing-gowns,' I said enthusiasti-
